


Mismatched

by Kimberly_T



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 159,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimberly_T/pseuds/Kimberly_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Season One, when Prince Zuko unexpectedly becomes Papa Zuko, he rocks not just the cradle but his entire ship, and eventually a lot more!</p><p> </p><p>(this story is now running concurrently with FFnet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts between the ending of “The Winter Solstice, Part1: The Spirit World” and the beginning of “The Winter Solstice, Part 2: Avatar Roku.” It also makes use of the facts given in Avatar Extras, that Zuko’s “sense of hearing is well above average” (which saved him when pirates blew up his ship) and “can hold his breath for an unusually long amount of time.”

Iroh remembers well the day, and indeed the very hour, that everything changed for his nephew.  …That everything changed _again_ , that is.

 

Several hours earlier, Zuko had rescued Iroh from a patrol of earthbending soldiers who’d captured him and had been set on bringing him to Ba Sing Se for his execution.  But since then they’d been riding through the night on a trail heading north-northeast, instead of back to the ship; Zuko had said that roughly two hours before finding and rescuing him, he’d seen the Avatar’s sky bison flying in that direction.  Considering Zuko’s obsession with capturing the Avatar, Iroh supposed he should be flattered that Zuko had kept on his trail and rescued him instead of immediately turning to pursue the sky bison.  But still, he would have preferred that they detour to rendezvous with the ship first; he would rather have been dressed in something besides a loincloth while Zuko rode forth in yet another attempt to meet his imposed destiny.

 

But destiny is a funny thing.  Roughly three hours before dawn, while Iroh was fighting back the latest in a series of yawns, Zuko suddenly yanked on the komodo-rhino’s reins and brought them to a halt.  Unprepared for the sudden stop, Iroh nearly tumbled from the saddle before catching himself.  “Nephew, what--?”

 

“Quiet!” Zuko hissed, his posture alert, turning his head sharply to the right. Iroh fell silent and strained to listen as well, though at first he heard nothing unusual.  But he knew Zuko’s hearing was far sharper than his, so he was not surprised when Zuko suddenly dismounted and started stalking into the woods alongside the trail.  Neither was Iroh overly surprised when he glimpsed something glowing though the trees, shining with an unearthly light; he’d seen that dragon-spirit the day before (with the spirit of the Avatar riding on it, he was fairly sure), and the Winter Solstice was upon them, so increased spirit activity was only to be expected.  But he was quite surprised to see Zuko heading straight for that glow; Zuko had never been to the Spirit World, and did not naturally have the gift for seeing or hearing spirits.  What was he…?

 

Iroh slipped off the saddle himself to follow his nephew and the spirit-glow, and less than ten yards off the road he heard a sound he hadn’t expected to hear at all in this wilderness: a baby crying. 

 

A few minutes later Iroh stepped gingerly around a large razzleberry bush, taking care to avoid the thorns, and abruptly found himself looking right at a _kirin_ ; a magnificent creature that he had heard of but never seen before with his own eyes. Dragon scales over an antelope-like body; a head adorned with great whiskers as well as antlers poking up through a fiery mane; delicate hooves that could walk without disturbing a single blade of grass, an instant before plunging right through an ogre’s heart… Kirins were beings of great spiritual power, devoted to protecting the pure and innocent and punishing the wicked. But this was a kirin- _spirit_ ; what had killed such a magnificent creature? And why was it prancing back and forth like—Iroh abruptly found himself skidding to a halt and windmilling his arms, to keep himself from falling headfirst into a steep ravine.  The kirin danced on the other side of the ravine, while looking down into its depths…

 

Depths from which Zuko’s rasping voice was emerging, along with the baby’s cries.  “I heard the baby; do you need help? What are you doing down… oh no.”  A small ball of fire appeared; Iroh saw his nephew hold the fire high with one hand while using the other to gently check the neck of a woman sitting in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the ravine.  But Iroh could tell even from up high that Zuko would find no pulse; the woman’s eyes were staring sightlessly up into the Spirit World.

 

The kirin soundlessly stamped its shining hooves.  Iroh called downwards, “Nephew, the baby?”

 

“Alive, still clinging to her skirts,” Zuko said as he snuffed out his firelight.  Iroh lit fires in both hands, the better to see as Zuko reached down towards a pair of tiny hands that were already reaching out to him.  His nephew stood up with the baby in his arms, whispering reassurances to it, then looked doubtfully up at the ravine side he’d slid down just before Iroh’s arrival. 

 

The ravine walls were too steep to walk up or even climb one-handed; Zuko would need to use both hands to get out.  “Nephew, you’ll need to make a sling to carry the baby in, out of your own clothing.  Take off your armor and toss the pieces up here; I’ll collect them for you.”

 

Before he could get his armor off, Zuko had to first get the baby to let go of him; it had a firm grip around his neck and was hanging on for all its worth.  Iroh could hear his nephew muttering, “Come on, let go; I can’t help you get out of here if you don’t… Sshhh, sshhh, it’s okay, I’m not going to leave you down here… ah, cinders.” Zuko called upwards, “Uncle, did you finish off the travel rations earlier?”

 

Iroh hadn’t quite finished them off; there were still two small, stale rice balls left. And that was probably just what this baby needed, if it had been down there long.  Iroh ran back to the war-rhino and got the nearly empty pack of travel rations, and the waterskin which still had a little water left in it.  He carefully let them go over the side of the ravine one at a time so Zuko could catch them one-handed, and offer them to the baby.  The baby immediately grabbed for a rice ball with both hands and started eating it, allowing Zuko to set him down and start taking his armor off.

 

Five minutes later Iroh had a neat pile of armor at his feet, and Zuko had stripped down to his loincloth. With Iroh calling down suggestions, Zuko fashioned his undertunic and leggings into a crude sling that he tied into place on himself; he gave the baby a drink from the waterskin, then tossed it back up to his uncle before he tucked the baby into the improvised sling, made sure it was safely secured to his front and began climbing. 

 

Once his nephew was within arm’s reach, Iroh reached down a hand to haul him up the last few feet.  “Well done, nephew!  Now, let’s see what we have here,” as he deftly took the baby out of the sling.

 

“We have a stinking mess that actually smells worse than your sandals,” Zuko said with his nose wrinkled in disgust, and a wave of his hands to indicate that the baby was all his uncle’s problem now. 

 

“Not surprising, if it’s been down there for a while. Any idea how the mother ended up dying there?” as Iroh cradled the baby, who was now babbling soft nonsense instead of wailing like he had when Zuko had first found him.

 

“It looked like her leg was broken, and she’s been dead for a day or so, but not from starvation or thirst. My guess is they fell in by accident, and she suffered internal injuries as well as broke her leg in the fall,” Zuko said curtly; the curt tone failed to hide the pained shadow in his eyes, visible in the light of the full moon.

 

“It’s a miracle the baby wasn’t injured too.  The mother likely did everything she could to shield her child while falling… Nephew, if you’ll donate your tunic sleeves to the cause, I can fashion a new loincloth for the baby and get him cleaned up,” Iroh suggested.  Zuko promptly started tearing the sleeves off his undertunic while Iroh set the baby down on the forest floor and set about stripping it out of its heavily soiled clothes—make that _his_ heavily soiled clothes; definitely a boy, and looking to be roughly a year old—and cleaning his bottom with a little water from the waterskin and some leaves stripped from a nearby bush.  “Now hold still, little wiggler… oh dear, that’s a terrible rash you’ve acquired on your poor bottom; we’ll have to get that treated with some ointment… But at least you’re clean now, with some food and water in your belly; that makes things just a little better, doesn’t it?  Now let’s see about getting that poor bottom covered again… There we are; that should do for a few hours,” Iroh cooed to the baby with a smile as he tied the improvised loincloth in place. He stood up again, cradling the infant just as he’d cradled Lu Ten all those years ago, already thinking about how he could fit a crib into his cabin…

 

And abruptly found himself face-to-muzzle with the kirin.  The spirit-beast had vanished while he wasn’t looking, being preoccupied with Zuko’s discovery down in the ravine; now it was back, and looking him straight in the eyes. 

 

The kirin lowered its antlered head briefly, to nuzzle the baby’s fine black hair; then it looked him in the eyes again, holding his gaze as it took four delicate, deliberate steps to the left…

 

To stand right next to Zuko.  Who had paused while getting dressed again and was looking at him with his lone eyebrow raised as he asked, “Uncle, what are you staring at?”

 

“Ah.  Well.  Nephew, I think you’d better take the baby now,” Iroh said as he slowly approached, holding the baby out.

 

“What?  Oh, no; I don’t want it!” Zuko yelped in clear dismay, backing up a step with his hands raised to ward him off.

 

“He’s nearly asleep now, nephew; he’ll be no trouble at all to mind.  Come on, hold your arms out; why are you afraid of a child?”

 

As predicted, Zuko stiffened at the word ‘afraid’, his face darkening in a flush of anger, and he wordlessly held his arms out for the baby. Iroh carefully transferred the baby into Zuko’s arms, with a murmur of “Easy now… Here, set him so he can lean on your shoulder.  It’s just as well that you hadn’t put all your armor back on; your tunic will be more comfortable for him.”

 

Zuko did as he suggested, but still muttered querulously, “Why are you making me hold him? I don’t know anything about babies!”

 

“But you were the first to find this little one and hold him, and give him food and water.  The baby already trusts you; he will sleep easier in your arms than he would in mine,” Iroh answered him while watching out of the corner of his eye as the kirin nodded in apparent satisfaction, then trotted away soundlessly over the grass until it abruptly faded from view, returning to the Spirit World.

 

Iroh knelt at the edge of the ravine, a full formal bow to show respect for the dead, and Zuko awkwardly got to his knees beside him as he said solemnly, “Young Earth Kingdom mother, may Oma and Shu guide you on your journey to the Spirit World.  You may rest in peace, knowing that your child survives and will be cared for. We give our royal oaths that we shall see the boy placed in caring hands and raised to honor you. As Agni is our witness,” he finished with a quick glance sideways at Zuko.

 

“As Agni is our witness; we promise to see him cared for,” Zuko said with a mixture of discomfort and determination.

 

They rose to their feet together; then Iroh gestured for Zuko to back up a few paces, while he took a firm stance.  “As children of Agni are given back to the fire, so children of Oma and Shu are given back to the earth,” he intoned as he _stomped_ , putting the full force of his chi behind the move, then sprang back quickly.  The edge of the ravine collapsed, sending rock and soil tumbling down to cover the body that lay below. Iroh nodded in satisfaction at the impromptu burial, then turned towards the road.  “Now come, let’s get going.  We’re bound to find a town sooner or later; according to the map you brought with you, this road should lead us straight to a village soon…”

 

With Zuko holding the baby in his arms, it fell to Iroh to take the reins of the komodo-rhino while his nephew sat behind him in the saddle. When they were all ready to travel, Iroh nudged the beast into a slow, easy amble instead of the steady canter that they’d been riding at before… then rolled his eyes as Zuko demanded, “Faster!  We’re still chasing the Avatar!”

 

“Patience, nephew; we shall increase speed slowly, so as not to startle the baby.  You wouldn’t want him to start crying again, would you?”

 

Zuko gave a soft wordless growl, but made no other protest as they started down the trail again.  As good as his word, Iroh nudged the komodo-rhino into a faster pace by degrees, finally reaching a fast trot that was still slower than the canter they’d been riding at before.  He waited for Zuko to demand they go faster, but evidently the teen recognized that the jouncing ride a cantering komodo-rhino gave would probably upset the baby, and kept silent. The baby kept silent as well, evidently rocked to sleep by the steady motion.

 

Roughly an hour later, they emerged from the forest onto a wide plain that smelled of soot and ashes; a part of the forest that had recently been burned down.  Iroh looked up at the open sky… and sucked in air through his teeth as he spotted a silhouette made familiar by now, backlit by the setting moon.  The Avatar’s sky bison!  Rising into the sky almost straight ahead, then setting off on a west-by-northwest course.

 

They were roughly half an hour to an hour’s ride from the point where the bison had taken off.  If they hadn’t stopped to rescue the baby…

 

“Uncle?  What’s wrong?” Zuko asked, sounding puzzled and a little tense.  “More earthbenders?”

 

His nephew must have had his head down, looking at the baby instead of up at the sky, or he would have seen it too.  Iroh improvised quickly, with a look over the valley they were riding into: “This was a battlefield, nephew; not that long ago, judging by the ash layer.”

 

“I see it,” Zuko nearly growled.  But a few minutes later he added hesitantly, “Uncle, are you sure this wasn’t just a forest fire?  I see plenty of burned trees and stumps, but there are no corpses, even of the war-steeds for either side. No broken spears or swords, or any of the usual remains of battle.”

 

“I’m sure,” Iroh said grimly.  “The fire started in that area,” as he pointed to the center, “and spread outwards from there.  That one spot is scorched earth, with downed trees spreading out around it; some shattered stumps, and others that were completely uprooted by a great force; a powerful explosion. General Mushin has this theater of operations, and either he got his hands on a cadre of imperial firebenders working in tandem, or his men set off an entire barrel of blasting jelly.  But you are right, the lack of the usual battlefield remains is puzzling.  It’s rare for both sides of a battle to be quite so conscientious about cleaning up… It’s possible that a barrel of blasting jelly was set off by accident, while transporting it to another site.”  Zuko must have agreed with his assessment, because he said no more as they rode past.

 

Soon afterwards they approached the gates of a village that had definitely been the site of a furious battle, though with what Iroh couldn’t say.  The village gates and wall were badly damaged, and at least a third of the houses they glimpsed inside the walls were partly wrecked as well.  But the damage was as much or more to roofs than to walls, as though they’d been attacked from above by a giant, or a flying monster… Or a giant flying monster.  Iroh didn’t say it, but he was sure that the Avatar’s sky bison had risen from this village; perhaps he’d had a violent disagreement with them?

 

“Whatever happened here, is probably what the mother was running from,” Zuko growled as they rode through the damaged gates.  “I don’t see any of our people standing watch, and it’s a safe bet that the natives won’t be friendly to us...”

 

“But they’ll have no reason to be unfriendly to one of their village’s children,” Iroh pointed out as he slid down from the komodo-rhino.  He was hardly dressed for meeting strangers, but he knew better than to have his prickly and hot-tempered nephew go from door to door asking for shelter and charity, even if only for the baby.  “Wait here, while I go wake somebody up.  And just in case…” He took the reins and pressed them into Zuko’s free hand.  “If there’s any attack at all, don’t fight, just **_run_**. I can still hold my own in a fight and catch up to you later, but the baby would only hamper you in battle.” Zuko nodded grimly and took a firm grip of the reins, while scooting forward in the saddle to put his feet in the stirrups.

 

The second door Iroh knocked vigorously on yielded a response; a middle-aged man, the village headman if the hat he’d hastily slapped on was any clue, fumbling to light a lantern as he yawned, “Did you forget something?” then the man’s eyes focused on Iroh, and he just stared in silence.

 

Standing there clad in only a loincloth, Iroh bowed and said pleasantly, “Greetings, and my apologies for disturbing you, but we have a child that we believe is from your village. An orphaned babe in need of shelter and caring hands to raise him, for his mother perished in an accident not far from here.”

 

The headman just gaped at him for a good five seconds before shaking himself, throwing off sleepy bewilderment like a lion-dog shedding water, and asking, “An orphaned baby, you said?  He shouldn’t be from our village; I made sure at sunset that all our children were accounted for.  But let’s see him; my wife and I can take him in for the night, then call for a village meeting tomorrow to see who will raise him.”

 

Zuko slowly dismounted from the komodo-rhino and walked over, stepping into the circle of light cast by the lantern.  The headman’s eyes positively bulged at the sight of Zuko, who was wearing his armor from the waist down but only a now-ragged tunic from the waist up, topped off by the scarred face, and the phoenix-plume that marked him as a Fire Nation royal.  Zuko gave him a silent glare of ‘what are _you_ looking at?’ but held the baby out for him to take.

 

Having awakened while Zuko was dismounting, the baby rubbed at his face with tiny fists and babbled sleepy nonsense, looking almost unbearably cute for their benefit. Iroh considerately stepped up to take the lantern from the headman’s hand, so he’d have both hands free to accept the baby.

 

“So, little one; let’s see if you look familiar,” the headman said in the soothing singsong voice adopted by fathers everywhere, as he cradled the baby in his arms and examined him…

 

Then hissed in revulsion, while abruptly shoving him out to arm’s length.  “The witch-child!”

 

Iroh was so startled, he almost dropped the lantern. Zuko instantly swooped in to snatch the baby back, clutching him to his chest; only after the baby was in his arms again did he demand, “What do you mean, _witch-child_?”

 

“Look at its eyes; it’s accursed!” the headman said as he backed up a step, while the baby began crying, startled by being jerked about so quickly.

 

Iroh and Zuko traded startled looks; then Iroh brought the lantern over so they could both use its light to look at the baby’s eyes.  By moonlight Iroh had seen a standard-looking baby boy, ten fingers and ten toes and such, but moonlight isn’t enough light for noticing some details.

 

Given how much the Fire Nation was hated by most of the Earth Kingdom, Iroh half-expected the baby’s eyes to be gold, a sure sign of Fire Nation descent and a possible firebender. But no, the eyes weren’t gold; instead, the baby’s right eye was a common brown.

 

The left eye was … a grayish blue.

 

Well.  That was different.

 

“That one’s mother came here three weeks ago, asking if she could live here; we had doubts from the start about allowing such a child within our walls, but she swore her babe was not a witch and some of the villagers took a liking to her, so I said she could stay if she proved her worth.  But then the Hei-Bai spirit came and attacked our village, drawn by the witch-child’s power!” the headman spat as they stared at the mismatched eyes. “We banished her immediately, but that didn’t get rid of the Hei-Bai spirit; after it came back the next sunset, we sent men out to find her and put the baby to death, but they found nothing.  Now you say the child’s an orphan; that it killed its own mother?  No wonder it took the Av--”

 

The headman’s ranting was abruptly cut off by Zuko’s blow, a backhand hard enough to knock him sprawling. 

 

“The baby didn’t kill his mother… _you did_!” Zuko snarled at the headman, smoke curling from between his clenched teeth as he held the crying child tightly to his chest.  “We found her body in a ravine off the road, one she’d probably fallen into while being chased by your men!  She died trying to protect her baby from your superstitious murdering idiocy!”

 

“Enough, nephew,” Iroh said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The young mother’s spirit does not walk here, in need of vengeance before she can rest; she only needs for her baby to be cared for… and this is obviously not the place for that.”

 

Iroh turned to the headman, letting a little of what had made him the Dragon of the West show through.  The headman had started to get back on his feet; the man paled and fell back again as Iroh growled, “ _You._ You will bring us four sets of baby clothes, ten diapers, a baby blanket and sling, a day’s worth of food and water for three—and a set of clothes in my size. You will bring them all to me _within the hour_ , or you will greatly regret it.”

 

The headman complied with all due speed. Less than an hour later, they were on their way back out the village gates with saddlebags full of the needed supplies. The tunic and trousers Iroh was wearing now were plain homespun peasant wear and rather tight in the waist, but they were better than nothing. Mounted behind him once more, Zuko kept a wary eye on their trail until the village was well behind them.  But as he kept watch, he murmured, “Uncle… is he actually a witch-child? Or is he half-Earth Kingdom, half-Water Tribe? I’ve never seen a baby with eyes of two different colors before…”

 

“Neither have I, nephew.  But I can tell you this; the baby has no more mystical power or evil in him than any other babe I’ve ever seen.”

 

“How can you tell?” Zuko persisted. “Even the Avatar looks like a normal boy, until he goes into the Avatar State.”

 

Iroh was silent for a few moments, then reluctantly decided that it was time to reveal a few of his many secrets.  He had intended on waiting until Zuko was strong enough in spirit to break his father’s poisonous hold on his soul, but under the current circumstances… “Nephew, you may have heard the rumor that I once journeyed to the Spirit World.”

 

“Someone on the crew mentioned it once, while you were off shopping,” Zuko admitted. “Nobody on the bridge believed it, but he swore that he’d gotten the story straight from his cousin in the Army, one of last people to see you when you left the Siege of Ba Sing Se.  He said that you went to the Spirit World to… to try to bring Lu Ten back…”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You… you really went to the Spirit World?” Zuko sounded shocked.

 

“I did. But I did not succeed in my quest to bring Lu Ten back.  And I do not speak of what I experienced in the Spirit World; some of it I am forbidden to speak of, ever… and some of it is just too painful.  But I will tell you this; as a result of the trials I went through in order to enter the Spirit World, I now have the ability to see spirits when they walk in our world, even when they are invisible to all others.”

 

“You can _see spirits_?”

 

“Indeed. It has come in handy from time to time.  I can also see when someone has great spiritual power within them, like a child with potential to become a Fire Sage. The baby you’re holding has no such power; he will likely not even bend an element when he is older.  But there is something else you should know… Tonight, when you heard the child crying and went to its rescue, I saw a spirit there at the edge of the ravine.”

 

“An _ubume_?” Zuko asked quietly.  Ubume were well-known spirits, but thankfully not malicious ones; each was the ghost of a mother who’d died in childbirth, or died unexpectedly before she could ensure her child would be cared for.  If the mother’s will was strong enough even when her body failed her, her spirit became an ubume _,_ in order to lead a living person to where her child was waiting in need of care.

 

“No, not an ubume; something far rarer.  The spirit of a kirin.”

 

“A _kirin_?” his nephew echoed incredulously.  “But those have been extinct for centuries!”

 

“Perhaps… or perhaps the few who remain have become very good at hiding.  Nevertheless, it was not a living kirin I saw, but the spirit of one, and the spirit of an animal stays true to its nature.  Kirin are renowned for protecting the innocent, and punishing the wicked.  The kirin-spirit that I saw nuzzled the baby’s head as gently as a mother kissing her newborn; it’s obvious now that it did so to reassure me—and now you—that the child is indeed innocent and pure, not tainted by evil, despite its mismatched eyes.  And…” Iroh hesitated, then forged on ahead; in for a copper, in for a gold piece. “After nuzzling the child, the kirin came to stand beside _you_ , Prince Zuko.  I was holding the baby at the time, but the spirit went to you; a clear indication of who it thought the child should go to and be raised by.”

 

“By **_me_**?!” Zuko almost squawked; Iroh could hear the incredulity warring with outright dismay in his voice. “But I don’t know anything about babies!  I’m not even old enough for marriage yet!”

 

“Yes, you are,” Iroh corrected him.  “You’re sixteen now; that’s old enough for marriage. I’ll grant you that it’s rare for any man of our country to get married quite so young, but you are legally old enough to do so.”

 

“But-but-but I’m not even _betrothed_ to anyone!  And I can’t be betrothed while I’m still banished! I--” Zuko’s semi-hysterical rant was interrupted by a wail; the baby had been whimpering, probably picking up on Zuko’s distress, and was starting to cry.  “Oh, _cinders_! Sshhh, sshhh, it’s okay, don’t cry, sshhh…”

 

“Mind your language around innocent ears, nephew,” Iroh murmured almost automatically, looking over his shoulder at Zuko as his nephew hastily started rocking the crying baby in his newly acquired sling.  Then he began to sing, “ _Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_ … Sing with me, nephew… _Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_ …”

 

“ _Like tiny fragile shells, drifting through the foam_ ,” Zuko sang with him, the teen’s rasping voice joining his gravelly tones. “ _Little soldier boy comes marching home; brave soldier boy comes marching home_ …”

 

It took ten verses before the baby settled back to sleep. “I still don’t understand,” Zuko whispered afterwards, careful not to wake the infant.  

 

“To understand why they thought this poor babe to be a witch-child, simply because of one odd eye?” Iroh sighed in resignation.  “Superstitions seem to spring up out of nowhere like mushrooms, nephew.  And I doubt that belief is restricted to just that one village.  The babe would not live long if he was left with the locals, that much is obvious.  Both the oaths we swore to his mother’s spirit and sheer human kindness dictate that we take him with us.”

 

“All right, I get that, but… I’m not married, and I don’t know anything about kids; why would a kirin pick _me_ to raise _any_ baby?”

 

“Well… I have a theory, nephew, but it will not please you to hear it.”

 

Zuko snorted behind him in impatience tinged with disgust. “As if anything about the last few years has been pleasant… Tell me.”

 

Iroh kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. “The kirin did not pick you to raise _any_ child; it picked you to raise _this particular_ child.  Perhaps because the baby is not the only one present… who must learn to live with mismatched eyes.”

 

The silence… _hurt_.

 

“You did ask, nephew.”

 

More silence.

 

“You’ll have to think of a name, you know.”

 

Finally, Zuko spoke again. “A name?”

 

“Of course.  We can’t just keep calling him ‘the baby’.  You found him, you saved him; he is your responsibility now, and your first duty to him is to give him a name.”

 

“A name…”

 

That had been said in an awed and even shaken tone, as the weight of this new responsibility began to fall on his nephew’s shoulders.  Iroh took pity on him and added, “There is no rush, though; we can keep calling him ‘the baby’ for a while longer, until you come up with something suitable.”

 

“A name…”  He heard Zuko take several deep breaths, obviously trying to force calm on himself… and it obviously wasn’t working too well, either.  “Uncle, I can’t do this!  I can’t raise a baby all by myself; I’m not ready for fatherhood!”

 

“No man is ever truly ready for fatherhood, nephew, no matter how much he thinks he is.  But I will be there to help and advise you… and I’ve heard you say before that all your struggles in life have made you strong.  You are correct in that; you are far stronger in spirit than many young men your age. Strong enough to do this, Prince Zuko…” Iroh smiled to himself, then corrected it to “Papa Zuko.”

 

“Oh, **_Agni_** …”

 

.

 _The Beginning_

 


	2. Named

_Author’s note:  I know the common trope about mismatched eyes, but no, the baby isn’t half-Water Tribe, or a shapeshifter, or anything else of a supernatural/dual nature.  He’s just got mismatched eyes; a condition called complete heterochromia iridis.  More common in cats and dogs than people, but it does pop up occasionally, and when it does it usually takes the form of one blue eye.  Sorry if anyone’s disappointed already!_   
__

Zuko had been told by his father more than once while growing up that his sister Azula had been born lucky, but he’d been lucky to be born.  He didn’t know all the details of his birth, but he knew it had been long and hard and there had been many doubts that either he or his mother would survive; that he’d been born so weak that for nearly a full month after his birth, the servants had kept a funeral shroud and pyre ready to receive a tiny corpse. 

 

Zuko didn’t like to remember the tone of his father’s voice when the funeral pyre had been mentioned.  Father had sounded almost… disappointed that it hadn’t been used after all.  As if the spirits had kept Zuko alive solely for the purpose of messing with his royal father.

 

Which was all ashes, of course; the spirits had no interest in messing with his father, because Zuko himself was clearly their favorite toy.  They took delight in batting his whole life around like a pygmy-puma with a ball of string. His _little sister_ had begun firebending before he did, and turned out to be a prodigy, getting all his father’s attention. His mother had vanished ( _died?_ ) after… doing what she’d had to do to save him from being killed, after his grandfather had--had gone insane with grief. _One moment_ of outraged protest in a war room had resulted in him being burned by his father and banished from his homeland.

 

And now he had **_proof_** that the spirits liked to mess with him. Proof in the form of a baby boy that the spirits expected him to adopt as his own… and worse, so did his uncle!  Just because the baby had mismatched eyes.  As if having eyes of two different colors was _anything at all_ like being branded with a mark of shame for disrespect, and cowardice in the Agni Kai arena.

 

No doubt about it; this was a sign that the Avatar having beaten and escaped from him _twice_ already wasn’t good enough for the spirits, and now they wanted to _really_ see him suffer.  Cold ashes, it just wasn’t _fair_ …

 

He looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms, and sighed as he considered that the spirits hadn’t been fair to this little boy either.  Look at the way those tiny hands were grabbing onto his tunic, even while asleep; this baby was so desperate for someone to love and take care of him, that he thought even _Zuko_ would do!  And no wonder; his mother had just died trying to save him, and there’d been no sign of a father around.  No relatives at all to take care of him, not even a somewhat-crazy uncle.  And to top it all off, the poor little guy had been born with something that made him different from everyone else, something that absolutely wasn’t his fault, but the villagers back there sure hadn’t seen it that way…

 

Okay, so maybe he and the baby had some things sort-of in common after all. They’d both lost their mothers, though this baby was so young now he might not even _remember_ his mother later. (Which would be so much harder on him; at least Zuko still had memories of his mother and her love for him, intangible treasures more precious than gold.) And they’d both been blamed for things that weren’t their fault; Zuko sure hadn’t told the spirits that he wanted to be born weak, and with no luck except bad luck.

 

Zuko had been born weak, but he hadn’t stayed that way.  Everything in his life that he’d had to struggle for, had made him stronger.  He never gave up without a fight—he never gave up, period, so long as he was convinced that what he was doing was right and necessary—and now he was tough and strong enough to command a ship and take it around the world, and to take on up to four firebenders at once, or an entire team of earthbending soldiers with only a little help from his uncle. 

 

Maybe the spirits had the right idea after all.  Maybe Zuko could teach this little boy how to be strong and tough enough, that he could stand up to any villagers who dared to call him a witch-child again.  He thought about that; about the little boy growing bigger, toddling next to him, and at first clinging fearfully to his side as they passed glaring peasants and jeering nobles… then learning to walk proudly on his own, his head held high, as Zuko whispered to him _Never forget who you are._  

 

As he pictured it, Zuko felt… he didn’t know how to describe it.  Something in his chest suddenly felt too big, shoving the rest of his innards around, but it was too pleasantly warm to hurt.  Such a weird feeling… but not weird in a bad way. 

 

But first, he had to give the baby a name. Zuko had never named a baby before; cinders, he hadn’t even named any _pets_ before.  He’d thought of the turtle-ducks in the garden pond as pets, but his mother had always been the one to name them, and after she’d— _vanished_ , he hadn’t dared show any attachment to the turtle-ducks anymore, for fear that Azula would fry them just to try to make him cry again.  But now he had to name a _baby_ , and he knew without asking that this was a thousand times more important than naming a pet.  Some pets didn’t even come when their names were called, but a person’s name became part of their identity; it was what they would respond to all their lives, become part of how they thought about themselves, and part of what others thought of them too.  This one act of naming could affect the baby’s whole life, making it that much better with the right name—or helping to ruin it, with the wrong one.

 

Preoccupied with the baby and thoughts of what to name him—and with how tired he was; Agni, he’d been up for two days and nights straight now—Zuko didn’t notice that they weren’t going north anymore until he saw the ocean through a break in the trees, and realized they’d turned west at the last fork in the road.  “Uncle, we were chasing the Avatar!”

 

Iroh responded promptly, “We were, when the plan was to simply drop the baby off at the nearest friendly village that would accept him.  But that plan has changed now, hasn’t it?” His tone became reproving. “Nephew, would you truly risk engaging in battle with the Avatar, not just as exhausted as you are, but with a helpless baby in your arms?”

 

“N-no, but… We have to keep tracking him! Who knows when we’ll have another chance at finding him?”

 

Iroh snorted in amusement.  “Prince Zuko, you are underestimating yourself.  Who hunted the Avatar for thirty-eight years without finding him?  Your great-grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin.  Who hunted the Avatar for even longer without success?  Fire Lord Azulon.  Who hunted the Avatar for only seven years before returning home, declaring the quest impossible?  Your father, when he was still just Prince Ozai. Who hunted the Avatar for less than three years—and _found_ him?”

 

“Me,” Zuko admitted, fighting down a grin.  He’d never thought of it that way before, but Uncle was right; he’d done something even his father had never been able to do!  It wasn’t enough, because he couldn’t go home until he’d actually _captured_ the Avatar and brought him back to Fire Nation soil… but it was still something.

 

“And after the first time he escaped us, you found him again on Kyoshi Island despite all those insane tactical maneuvers he pulled over the southern seas, flying in every compass direction at least once in order to throw us off his trail.  I’m certain that you’ll track him down again in due course.  But for now we should rendezvous with the ship, and get our precious cargo aboard.  Which inlet did you send them to wait at?”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Lieutenant Jee considered himself a patient man.  He had to be, to put up with the demands of that spoiled brat of a prince who captained the ship.  Prince Zuko was absolutely nothing like his esteemed uncle, the Dragon of the West; he didn’t listen to anyone concerning good advice, least of all his wise uncle, and he’d nearly gotten crewmen killed more than once in his quest to capture the Avatar.  Under other circumstances, Jee would have taken Prince Zuko’s temporary absence from the ship as a gift from the spirits, and simply enjoyed it while waiting for his inevitable return.

 

But these weren’t the usual circumstances.  The whole reason Prince Zuko had been gone for over a day now is that he was chasing after the earthbenders that had kidnapped his uncle, General Iroh.  Not just Jee but the entire crew had a lot of respect for the retired general, and had even grown fond of his attempts to keep up ship morale with activities like Music Night.  Jee had been ready to send an entire squad out after the general’s kidnappers, but Prince Zuko had insisted on going after him alone. 

 

Jee had, for once, understood the prince’s reasoning; an entire squadron would make too much noise on the trail, and if the earthbenders knew they were being followed, they’d probably slit the general’s throat on the spot before scattering and going underground.  Anyone who’d muttered about the prince right before catching one of his furious glares clear across the deck of the ship could testify as to how sharp Zuko’s hearing was; he’d have the best chance of hearing the kidnappers and sneaking up on them before they could detect him. And the prince was a powerful firebender who had been well-trained in combat by his uncle; Jee was one of the few people aboard who could still stand against him in a sparring match, even though he’d barely started on the advanced forms.  But still, it rankled to just _sit there_ and wait while the prince tried to rescue his uncle.

 

And now it rankled even more, because a few hours ago he’d been woken up from a sound sleep by Sergeant Goro excitedly saying that the night watch had spotted the Avatar’s sky bison flying almost directly over the inlet they were anchored in, heading out to sea, and what should they do?

 

They couldn’t do anything, that was the problem.  Zuko had given them clear and direct orders to come to this inlet, set anchor and wait for him.  Jee knew exactly what happened to officers who disobeyed direct orders without an extremely critical, life-or-death justification; it was how he’d ended up on Prince Zuko’s ship without his topknot.  But that was _the Avatar_ out there; the whole reason Prince Zuko was on this damned ship at all!  If they could just catch that flying brat and chain him down, they could go home!

 

But _Prince Zuko_ had to be the one to capture the Avatar, or be in command of the ship at the time of capture.  General Iroh had made that clear, just over a year ago, when Jee had gotten frustrated enough with the prince to risk muttering to the general that the ship would fare better under his command.  The elder had given him a kindly smile, thanking him for the vote of confidence, but insisted that he could not possibly take command; it was Prince Zuko’s mission, and he was along merely to help out his nephew.  Then that kindly old man had let the Dragon of the West show while informing him that helping out his nephew extended to helping Prince Zuko put down _mutinies_ in the crew; he’d done it before, and was prepared to do it again… In the face of such terrible wrath Jee had instantly kowtowed, sworn on his ancestors that he had no intention of mutinying, and dropped the subject forever.

 

So the crew weighed anchor and kept the boilers hot, ready to move out in an instant, but did not leave the inlet in pursuit of the Avatar; instead, they just sat there and kept waiting…

 

And soon after Agni began peeking over the horizon, a lone komodo-rhino with two riders came trotting up along the shore.  Everyone on deck spontaneously started cheering at the sight of the prince and the rescued general; grinning from ear to ear, Jee gave the orders to move the ship in closer to shore, just enough that they could drop the bow into a boarding ramp and bring the komodo-rhino aboard.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

“Sshh, shhh; soon, little boy,” Zuko murmured, while rubbing the baby’s back.  Uncle was right, the rubbing seemed to soothe his fussing a little.  The baby had woken up again a few minutes ago, probably in need of more food—and definitely in need of a diaper change; Agni, that _smell_ —but now wasn’t the time to stop and deal with it, not with the ship in sight and preparing to receive them.

 

“The crew seems happy to have us back, nephew!” Iroh said cheerfully as they heard the shouts and cheers of the men on deck.

 

“Happy to have _you_ back, anyway,” Zuko couldn’t help muttering very quietly. He knew too well that his entire crew hated him; had heard all their mutterings, everything they said behind his back and when they thought he couldn’t hear them.  _Spoiled brat.  Royal pain.  Arrogant. Volcano-tempered. Reckless. Obsessed.  Insane…_  

 

He admitted he was obsessed with capturing the Avatar; who wouldn’t be, when accomplishing that was the _only_ way he could ever go home again?  But the rest… dammit, it hurt that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t win the respect of even the sea-rats on his crew, let alone from his father.

 

Uncle had said more than once that Zuko wanted their respect, he could try being nice to them; taking an interest in them personally.  But he didn’t see how that could possibly help; he already knew too much about what his crew was like.  He’d read their personnel records; every last one of them had ended up on his ship only after getting in trouble on another ship in the fleet.  Caught drunk on duty, missing ship’s calls when leaving port, provoking fights within the ranks, disobeying direct orders… the list went on and on.  He’d long suspected that most of them had been offered a choice between becoming a member of Prince Zuko’s crew or going straight to the brig; a suspicion confirmed when he’d overheard one of the men in the engine room mutter “I should’ve chosen the brig.”

 

As for being nice to them anyway, who did Uncle think he was kidding?  His father never bothered being nice or friendly to people, and neither did Azula, but they got instant respect and obedience whenever they gave orders.  Yes, Iroh was friendly to the crew, but that was because he could afford to be; he’d been The Dragon of the West in his heyday, the greatest general and most feared warrior in the entire world, and everyone knew it.  All he had to do was _frown_ and people started dropping into kowtows, even if he’d been smiling just moments before. Ashes, even that village headman had almost wet himself when Uncle had turned the Dragon on him, while still wearing just a loincloth!

 

The bow ramp was coming down not twenty years away from them. With an effort, he banished the tired slump in his spine and straightened up, determined to show no weakness in front of the crew.  He also shoved away all his feelings of being inadequate and worthless compared to the rest of his family, and put on the hard frown he wore nearly all the time when aboard, to let the crew know he would tolerate no disrespect from them. He was **_not_** going to let any of them laugh at him or mock him, for taking care of a baby that wasn’t of his blood.

 

They rode the komodo-rhino aboard the ship, then dismounted to leave it to the beast-tender as Lieutenant Jee strode up to them.  “Welcome back, sirs!” as he gave a brisk salute. “Glad to see you’re all right, General.  Sirs, roughly three hours ago, we had a—baby?” as his salute dropped nearly as fast as his jaw.

 

“Yes, a baby,” Zuko said firmly, looking his lieutenant right in the eye as he shifted to settle the baby more firmly onto his shoulder.  “I’m taking care of him.” Then he winced, as sharp pain radiated from the top of his head; his phoenix-plume had swung back within the baby’s reach again when he’d gotten off the komodo-rhino. He resignedly muttered “ _No_ ,” while reaching back to pull his hair out of the infant’s surprisingly strong grasp for what felt like the umpteenth time—Uncle had said that Zuko just had to keep telling the baby ‘no’ when he did things he wasn’t supposed to, but hadn’t said how long it would take for the lesson to sink in. Then he continued telling Jee, “The saddlebags are full of baby supplies; have them brought to my cabin.”

 

“Uh… what?” as a still-gaping Jee looked past him, to Uncle—cinders, he _hated_ when they did that!  Why couldn’t they just listen to him?

 

“I believe you heard your commanding officer,” Uncle Iroh rumbled.  “An orphaned Earth Kingdom child has fallen into our care; Prince Zuko will be raising him.  Now, if you please; we really do need those saddlebags in short order.  The baby is in dire need of a diaper change, and a decent breakfast.”  Uncle interrupted himself with a yawn so wide it looked like the top of his head would fall off, then continued, “And the prince and myself will need breakfast, too, and a decent period of rest; after everything we’ve been through recently, a man needs his rest.”

 

Zuko was so tired, it seemed to take forever to drag himself up the ladders and through all the passageways between the beast-hold and his cabin; he reached his door just as a crewman sprinted up with a basket full of the baby supplies from the saddlebags.  Tadao set the supplies down in his room, staring wide-eyed at the baby in his sling, then offered hesitantly, “Sir, I have a little brother I used to help take care of.  Would you like me to help with the baby’s diaper change?”

 

Agni, _yes_!  He’d been dreading the prospect of having to deal with all that stinking mess himself. Trying not to let the sheer relief show on his face, he agreed to the offer, then gestured towards the baby supplies. 

 

Tadao quickly set out the supplies and got a change of clothes, fresh diaper and a cleaning rag ready, while asking, “Sir, ah... Sir, may I ask the baby’s name?”

 

Tearing his longing gaze away from the bed—so close, and yet so far—Zuko sighed.  “We don’t know what his name used to be; his mother died before we found him.  I haven’t decided on a new name for him yet.”

 

When everything was ready, Tadao gently took the baby from his arms, efficiently stripped the infant out of the soiled clothes and cleaned off his bottom, murmuring what sounded like a nursery song while he worked.  Zuko made a mental note to have someone write that nursery song down for him to learn later; the only one he knew by heart was ‘Leaves From the Vine’—the one Uncle had sung to him over and over while he’d been wracked with fever, in the first few days after he’d been burned—and he’d sung it so many times in the last few hours he was already sick of it.

 

“There we go, little man, all clean and ready for new clothes,” Tadao was saying to the baby with a smile as he started putting the fresh diaper on.  Then came the baby’s outer clothes, accompanied by the baby’s cheerful burbling and Tadao’s equally cheerful running commentary of “Here we go, let’s get the left arm in… good baby, now the right arm… aren’t you a good boy, hm?  And now you’re all clean and dressed, and… huh?”

 

Zuko had been almost nodding off while still on his feet, but he suddenly snapped back to awareness to find Tadao kneeling in front of the baby while peering hard at his little face.  _Oh, cinders_ , was all he had time to think in dismay before Tadao suddenly scrambled back, almost crab-walking backwards away from the baby, while hissing, “A witch-child!”

 

To _Koh’s Lair_ with that!  Zuko reached down to grab Tadao by the collar and yanked him up to glare at him face-to-face while snarling, “ _Say that again and **die**_! This baby is _not_ a witch-child!”

 

But that fool Tadao still babbled, “B-but sir, its eyes--”

 

Zuko did his damndest to channel the Dragon of the West into his voice as he glared, growling, “Crewman, do you really have a problem with **_mismatched eyes_**?!”

 

Tadao’s face was almost bloodless with terror. “S-s-sir, no sir!”

 

“Good.  Now get out!” as he shoved the private towards the door.

 

Tadao quickly scrambled out of the cabin, just barely missing General Iroh as he came in with a tray of food in his hands.  His uncle gave him a reproving look, but Zuko ignored it as he reached down to scoop up the baby again, murmuring, “There, there; no one’s going to hurt you, I promise…”

 

Iroh set the loaded breakfast tray down on his desk with a raised eyebrow.  “We have a problem already?”

 

Zuko sighed.  “Apparently Earth Kingdom peasants aren’t the only superstitious fools in the world.  Tadao saw the baby’s eyes and started almost screaming that he’s a witch-child!”

 

“Oh dear…” Iroh shook his head.  “We’ll have to address the entire crew, and quickly; before any wild rumors start spreading. I’ll go fetch Lieutenant Jee, nephew; you can see about feeding the baby in the meantime.” His uncle got him situated with a cup of water, a small bowl of plain sticky rice and another of what looked like hastily diced mango pieces, advising him, “Use the spoon instead of chopsticks, so you don’t poke his mouth by accident.”

 

 By the time his uncle came back with Lieutenant Jee in tow, Zuko was fighting an overwhelming urge to cry, from sheer frustration and despair.  Only about half of the sticky rice had actually gone inside the baby’s mouth; the rest had somehow ended up all over his face and baby clothes, and even a few grains on Zuko’s own clothes!  And some of the water had spilled, and—he just couldn’t do this!  How could he take care of a baby and raise him up well, when he couldn’t even _feed_ him right?

 

But when Lieutenant Jee walked in with his uncle, the officer took one look at him and then just sat right down on the deck and offered with his arms outstretched for the baby, “Please, sir, let me help you out for the moment.  My wife and I raised a son and two daughters; I remember how hard it is to feed them solid food at this stage.”

 

Zuko glared at him.  “If I hear _one blasted word_ about his eyes…”

 

“The general already told me, sir.  May I?” Jee still had his arms out, so Zuko carefully transferred the baby over to him, then watched him like a dragon-hawk.  After only one brief glance at the baby’s eyes, Jee just settled him in his lap, accepted the spoon and remaining food from Iroh, and started feeding him without further comment.

 

Iroh, on the other hand, commented approvingly, “You did very well for a first try at feeding, nephew.”

 

Zuko gave him a sullen glare.  “Don’t patronize me; you can see the mess here as well as I can!”

 

“But the bowl of rice is almost completely empty, and there isn’t quite enough of it spread around to make even half a bowl.  Which means that a large portion of it actually went into the baby’s stomach; that’s very good for a first try!”

 

“Your uncle is right, sir,” Jee said without looking up from what he was doing.  “For my first time feeding my eldest daughter, I averaged one spoonful in five actually going into her stomach.  Mind you, she was a little younger than this fellow is now; I’d say he’s a year old or so…”

 

“That was my guess too,” Iroh put in.  Zuko looked at them doubtfully, but neither seemed to be lying just to make him feel better.  How about that; he wasn’t screwing things up too badly already…

 

Iroh urged Zuko to eat his own breakfast, get out of the clothes and half-donned armor he’d been wearing for two days straight, clean up and put on a dressing gown while together they told Jee all about finding the baby. Including Iroh’s account of the kirin-spirit, and what the village headman had said about the baby and his deceased mother.  Jee didn’t seem at all surprised at Uncle Iroh’s admission that he could see spirits due to his journey to the Spirit World; Zuko wondered for a moment if he was the only one who hadn’t believed that crewman’s story about his uncle, and felt ashamed of himself again. 

 

At the end of the tale, Jee set down the empty bowl and spoon and wiped the baby’s face as he declared, “I’ll call for an assembly, and ensure the crew knows the whole story.”

 

“Perhaps not every single thing I just told you,” Iroh said with an upraised finger.  “I would prefer to keep quiet my ability to see the unseen; it leads to uncomfortable questions, many of which I can not answer.  Simply assure the crew that I am quite certain he is _not_ a witch-child.”

 

“As you command, general.  But before I go, sirs, I can put him into fresh clothes for you, and take the soiled ones down to the laundry.  And ask the quartermaster to whip up a few bibs for feedings; they’re good for keeping the mess off his clothes.”

 

They took him up on his offer, and the baby was wearing a clean set of clothes in just a few minutes, even before Zuko had finished dressing. “Thank you very much, Lieutenant,” Iroh said as the lieutenant got up to leave, and this time Zuko added his own thanks, quieter but no less fervent.

 

“My honor to serve, sirs,” Jee said as he bowed to them and left.  The response was standard, but… Zuko blinked as he thought that this time, Jee had sounded like he really meant it.

 

Now that they were alone in the cabin, Zuko found himself pulled towards the bed like flotsam in a whirlpool.  Uncle made some paternal noises as he virtually tucked Zuko into bed, tucking the baby in with him.  “You’ll need to keep a good hold on him, nephew, until we can get a crib put together for him to sleep in. Offhand, I don’t see anything lying about that he could hurt himself with, but little babies always seem to find something that the adults missed at first.”

 

“Got it,” Zuko said drowsily, lying on his side and holding the baby to his chest.  For his part, the baby seemed to find a fire prince’s bed to be warm and snuggly and perfect for napping in; he settled against Zuko without any fussing.  The prince was vaguely aware of his uncle giving another face-splitting yawn and tottering off to his own cabin next door, before sheer exhaustion swept him away.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Tadao was down in the mess hall, telling two other wide-eyed crewmen what he’d seen of the witch-child’s eyes and what he feared it meant for the ship, when the word was passed that Lieutenant Jee wanted everyone on deck for an emergency assembly.

 

Twenty minutes later, everyone stood at attention with Jee standing in front of the formation, with an odd look on his face.  He began without preamble, “I imagine the rumors are flying around the ship already, so I called you all here to set them straight. Yes, Prince Zuko and General Iroh brought a baby back with them; an orphaned Earth Kingdom peasant boy. Yes, the prince has stated he is going to take care of the boy.  Yes, the baby has one brown eye and one blue eye. But General Iroh is certain that the baby is **_not_** a witch-child. Any questions?”

 

There were questions aplenty, so many that Jee had to tell them to ask them one at a time, starting with the front row on the right. Hūn asked the first question, and while normally Hūn wasn’t the brightest of candles, this time he asked what Tadao thought was the most sensible question ever: “How can he be so certain that it isn’t a witch-child?”

 

“The general has his methods; that’s all I can tell you, but personally, I believe him.  Next?”

 

Goro asked, “Well, if it isn’t a witch-child, where’d the one blue eye come from?  Is he half Water Tribe or something?”

 

“I don’t know, and they don’t know either.  The baby’s mother was Earth Kingdom but they have no idea who the father was, so it’s possible. Next?”

 

Li Mein asked, “What happened to the mother?”

 

“They found her and the baby in a ravine; Prince Zuko said it appeared they’d fallen in while running from pursuit, and she broke her leg and suffered internal injuries that eventually killed her.  They gave her some funeral rites and took the baby with them.  Next?”

 

“You said ‘running from pursuit’; any idea what they were being pursued by?”

 

“I’m glad you asked that question.” Jee’s teeth showed in a horrendous scowl, though thankfully it didn’t seem directed at any of them. “The headman of the nearest village told them that men from his village had been after her, after they’d already turned her and the baby out into the wilderness; they blamed the pair for some spirit-trouble they were having and wanted to _execute an innocent child_ in hopes of making the spirit-trouble stop, instead of doing what any sane man would do and calling for a Fire Sage… or Earth Sage, I suppose; they probably deal with spirits the same way.”  The scowl had softened to an uncertain frown while talking about sages, but deepened with contempt as he continued, “Personally, I think those damn fool villagers are lucky they didn’t actually kill an innocent baby, on the eve of the Winter Solstice; that’s just begging for a flood of evil spirits to swarm into your home.  Next?”

 

“Well… how long is the baby going to be aboard?”

 

“Right now, we can assume indefinitely.  Next?”

 

“Indefinitely?  As in, they’re keeping it?!” Joben asked incredulously.  “You’re joking, right? I mean, I don’t have an opinion one way or the other about eyes that don’t match up, but… an Earth Kingdom peasant baby that’s probably a bastard child, and Fire Nation royalty?!  You can’t get more mismatched than that!”

 

Jee gave an amused snort as he admitted, “Can’t argue with that.  But… up until this morning, I would have said that Prince Zuko is…” he paused, looking in the direction of the prince’s cabin as if he was worried about being overheard—and he probably was—then continued a little more quietly, “I would have said he’s an arrogant, self-centered, spoiled brat of a prince who doesn’t care about anyone or anything that doesn’t have to do with his quest to capture the Avatar. And I would have guessed that anyone who even touched that royal phoenix-plume he’s so proud of would have been either kicked overboard, set on fire or _both_.  But while he was telling me that he’d be taking care of the baby, that little one got his hands in the prince’s hair and yanked _hard_ , hard enough that even _I_ was wincing…”

 

Jee waited through the chorus of hisses from people sucking in air through their teeth, with expressions ranging from appalled to dismayed, then continued, “And all he did was pull his hair back out of the kid’s grasp and tell me about the baby supplies in the saddlebags.  And later on up in his cabin, the prince was nearly asleep on his feet from being awake two days and nights straight, but he was still fussing over feeding the baby before he’d even had anything to eat himself. Fussing over the baby just like any…” Jee shook his head when he couldn’t quite manage to say the words, then continued, “I’m telling you, it was almost enough to make me ask the general what he’d done with the old spoiled brat prince, and how long we could keep this one.”

 

Stunned silence greeted his statement, that lasted for a good thirty seconds before Shoda indicated he had a question: “How old would you say this baby is?”

 

Jee shrugged. “I’d guess about a year, give or take a month. Next?”

 

“Um, I wasn’t finished,” Shoda said hastily, then hesitated before continuing, “Well, we’ve chased rumors of the Avatar into so many places, lots of them have sort-of blurred together, so I’m asking…  Have we been in this region before?”

 

Jee gave a twisted smile. “Before, as in, a year and nine months ago?  I already thought of that; I was checking the ship’s logs when the general came and asked me to come to the prince’s cabin.  No, in that time frame we were over a thousand miles away from here, checking out the ruins of the Eastern Air Temple.  This baby is _not_ of the prince’s blood, even if he’s sure as sunset acting like it.”

 

Tetsuko’s question was, “So, what’s the baby’s name?”

 

Jee gave another shrug. “They’ve no idea what his old name was; Prince Zuko’s still deciding on a new one.”

 

Then Akio asked, “What did Prince Zuko say about the Avatar sighting?”

 

Jee opened his mouth… paused with it hanging open for a good five seconds, as he started flushing dull red… and finally admitted, “He doesn’t know about it yet.  I was about to tell him when I saw the baby in his arms, and after that I got completely sidetracked...” He rubbed his sideburns in thought, then declared, “The bison was heading north-northwest at time of sighting. Navigator, determine what Earth Kingdom islands and towns lie in that general direction; we’ll set a course for the nearest one at top cruising speed.  If we actually catch up to the beast—not likely, given that it’s got over three hours’ head start, but if we do—then I will wake the prince up and inform him.  But until then, we let him sleep.  He’s been up for two days and nights now, and men that tired do not make rational decisions; Agni knows what insanity he’d consider putting us through today, if he thought he had a chance to capture that flying brat at last.”

 

The assembly broke up soon afterwards, with everyone returning to their duties, but Tadao’s fears hadn’t been settled by what Jee had said; if anything, they’d gotten worse.  The general could spout all his assurances about the baby not being a witch-child, but for a royal prince—not just any royal prince, but Prince Zuko the Royal Pain—to act so fatherly with a baby that wasn’t of his own royal blood, _just wasn’t natural_.  Prince Zuko had been _bewitched_ by the baby’s powers, and right under the general’s nose.

 

Given the way the prince had blown up at him earlier, Tadao knew better than to voice his suspicions to either of the royals; he had no desire to be set on fire.  But he’d start carrying salt in his belt pouch, and writing prayers on paper to stuff inside his sleeves; he’d do what he could to protect himself, while waiting for disaster to strike.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Appa was flying as fast as he could, but Aang was still worried about their making it to Crescent Island in the Fire Nation before the sun set on the Winter Solstice.  “Come on, boy! We've got a long way to go! Faster!”

 

“We should be about halfway there by now,” Sokka said, studying the map he had spread over his lap.  “We should reach Fire Nation territory in the next few minutes… and run into that hothead Prince Zuko about thirty seconds later.”

 

“Don’t go borrowing trouble,” Katara scolded him, but the worried frown on her face said she feared Zuko would show up as well.

 

“Actually, I think we might have a better chance of _not_ seeing Prince Zuko there,” Aang called over his shoulder to the Water Tribe siblings. “From what Zuko and his sailors were saying while I was aboard that one time, I kind-of got the impression that they couldn’t go home to the Fire Nation until after they captured the Avatar.”

 

But five minutes later, when they saw what was on the horizon at the Fire Nation border, Sokka groaned out loud, “Aw, man… that’s even worse than Prince Zuko!”

 

“A blockade!” Katara blurted out, her eyes wide with dismay.  There were at least thirty ships steaming back and forth in a pattern to block foreign ships from coming through… and they were headed right for them!

 

Aang stared at the line of ships with worry. “If we fly north, we can go around the Fire Nation ships and avoid the blockade. It's the only way!”

 

But Katara said sternly, “There's no time!”

 

Aang glanced fearfully over his shoulder at his friends. “This is exactly why I didn't want you to come. It’s too dangerous!”

 

Katara gave him a look of fierce determination. “And that's exactly why we're here.”

 

Sokka gave a short nod of agreement, looking even more determined than his sister.  “Let's run this blockade!”

 

Aang faced forward and gripped the reins even tighter, commanding, “Appa! Yip yip!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

When a lookout spotted the Avatar’s sky bison heading in their direction, attempting to fly right over the ships in his blockade, Zhao decided it must be his lucky day.

 

Ten minutes and dozens of catapult launches later, when the bison soared past them into Fire Nation territory apparently unscathed, Zhao wasn’t feeling quite so lucky anymore.  If word got out that he’d let the Avatar slip past his forces, he’d be almost as much of a national disgrace as the ex-Prince Zuko!  He ordered three ships, including his flagship, out of formation to follow the Avatar and bring him down. 

 

His warships had been built for offensive firepower instead of speed and quick maneuverability; the sky bison was out of sight by the time the three warships had left formation and started the pursuit.  But Zhao’s navigator plotted the sky bison’s course on their maps and predicted that he was heading for Crescent Island, the site of the Fire Sages’ main temple to the Avatar.  Headed for the temple on the Winter Solstice, the day the walls between the Spirit World and mortal world were thinnest… Zhao scowled and ordered full steam ahead.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko woke up when something hit the deck with a crash. He blearily blinked and shook himself awake, then looked around in dawning horror as he realized his normally tidy and spotless cabin had been _trashed_. 

 

All his shoes and boots had been pulled out of the low shelf they were kept in and dragged here and there across the floor, which was now crisscrossed with black smudges and streaks. The crimson wall hanging he kept over the wall-mounted mirror had been yanked down and the mirror’s lower half covered with black fingerprints. The papers that had been piled on his desk under a paperweight were now scattered, tattered and torn to scraps, not to mention splotched with black from the inkwell he now saw spilled on the floor next to the desk. And that crash was from the teapot Uncle Iroh had given him as a birthday present last year; it had been pulled from its shelf and lay on the floor in ceramic shards all around the baby, whose ink-stained face was scrunching up in a—

 

“WAAAHHH!”

 

Zuko scrambled out of bed so fast his feet got tangled in the sheets and he ended up toppling over, landing hard on his left shoulder… just as the baby finished sucking in breath and let loose another earsplitting wail.

 

He flopped over from his side to his stomach and half-crawled, half-dragged himself over to the baby, with words tumbling frantically out of him: “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, are you hurt?  Are you bleeding? Come here, it’ll be okay, I never liked that thing anyway, I only kept it out because Uncle gave it to me, did it hit you on the head?  Where does it hurt?”  But all he got in response was another horrible shriek that made his sensitive eardrums want to retreat deeper inside his skull.

 

He didn’t see any blood, but he couldn’t tell if any bruises were forming under all the ink stains on the baby’s face, his hands, and his legs clear up to his butt.  But the way he was screaming, he had to be hurt somewhere!  Zuko scrambled to his feet with the baby in his arms—and then swore in startled pain when he stepped on a shard of the teapot.

 

Hopping on one foot, he made his way over to the door just as it opened and his uncle burst in, nearly bowling him over.  “What happened?” Iroh demanded, looking around wildly.

 

“I screwed up, I let go of him while I was sleeping, and—I think the teapot fell on his head!” Zuko gasped as he managed, barely, to keep from falling over by steadying himself with a hand on his uncle’s shoulder.  “How do you check for a concussion?!”

 

He was ready to hop-limp all the way to sickbay with the baby, but Uncle took a deep breath and gathered himself, then plucked the infant from his arms while ordering Zuko to sit down and calm himself.  Zuko sat on the edge of the bed, pulling ceramic slivers out of his foot while looking anxiously up at his uncle. Iroh looked the crying baby over from head to toe, then pronounced with a crooked smile, “I believe he was merely scared by the loud crash, as I was.  There, there, young one… That’s right, you’re safe, now calm down… Here, nephew; deep calming breaths for yourself, while holding him and rubbing his back,” as he handed the infant over.

 

Calm himself while _holding a screaming baby_?  Uncle was absolutely _insane_ … But Zuko took the baby and several deep shuddering breaths while Uncle held his gaze, radiating _calm_ like heat waves while reciting a familiar koan for meditation.  Soon he was able to force calm on himself… and almost as soon as he calmed down, so did the baby.  Weird.

 

He kept rubbing the baby’s back to keep him soothed, while his uncle looked over the trashed cabin with a rueful expression and slowly shook his head.  “Dear me, what a mess… We’ll have to get a cleaning detail in here quickly.  And get the two of you cleaned up as well; perhaps we can wash at least a few of the ink stains off…”

 

Iroh put together a three-man cleaning party to scrub Zuko’s cabin, while Zuko took the baby down to the laundry room that doubled as the ship’s bathing room on non-laundry days.  Today was actually a laundry day, but Joben took one look the baby now covered in black blotches, and hurriedly emptied the clothes out of the last rinsing tub without any questions. 

 

Zuko scowled at the rinse tub, filled with cold clear water.  “A cold bath? I wouldn’t do that to a spider-snake!” Cold baths were sheer misery, a mild form of torture as far as he was concerned, and nobody expected this Earth Kingdom kid to be a firebender.

 

“It'll be quicker for you to warm up cold water with some firebending than to wait for the wash water to cool down, sir," as Joben indicated the wash tubs with a jerk of his chin. The washing water was heated by steam piped in straight from the engine room’s main boiler; curling wisps of steam were visible in the air above those tubs, and Joben’s hands and arms were bright red from being immersed in them. “Babies have right delicate skin; they take baths in warm water instead of hot. Besides, the regular laundry soap would likely give the littl’un a rash. I’ll get you some mild soap powder, and some sword oil from the armory, while you’re heating the water.

“Sword oil?” Zuko echoed incredulously.

 

“For getting the ink off skin, sir; best thing for it,” Joben said over his shoulder as he hurried out.

 

Zuko stared after the crewman, then decided to believe him; it wasn’t like Zuko had any experience in washing babies to compare it with.  After checking to make sure there wasn’t anything around for the baby to get his ink-stained hands on—all the laundry was up on tables well off the deck—Zuko set the baby down, rolled up his sleeves and plunged an arm deep into the cold water with a shudder of distaste, then set to heating it with firebending.  It was tempting to fire several blasts into it until it was as hot as he liked his baths, but Joben had said warm but _not_ hot.

 

While steadily heating the water, he turned enough to keep an eye on the baby.  The little boy tried to stand up, made it to his feet for just a few seconds and then wobbled and fell backwards onto his butt; Zuko tensed, ready to grab him and comfort him again but the baby just seemed to shake it off without any tears. Maybe he was so low to the ground already that just the diaper padding prevented him from being hurt.  After that, the baby crawled around, leaving smears of ink here and there on the floor—his crew was going to hate him even more after this, Zuko just knew it—until he reached the wall.  Then he pulled himself up and started walking unsteadily along the perimeter, while keeping one hand against the wall for balance.  _Resourceful little boy_ , Zuko thought approvingly, while swirling around the heated water to warm the entire tub.  He wondered if the baby really hadn’t learned to walk yet, or if he could walk on level ground but hadn’t gotten his sea legs yet.

 

Soon the water in the tub felt just a little bit warmer than his own skin; Zuko hoped that was what Joben had meant.  With the water ready, he turned his attention to getting the baby out of his clothes and diaper—which was sodden with pee already; didn’t this kid do anything besides make messes?  He’d just finished getting the baby stripped when his uncle came into the laundry room with a bundle of clean clothing, reporting that the cleanup had begun and his room should be presentable again in an hour or so.  “Plenty of time to get both of you clean again,” he concluded with a wry smile.

 

Zuko nodded, grimacing at the ink stains on his hands that he’d noticed while rolling his sleeves up.  “Well, it should probably come off my hands while I’m washing him,” he concluded with a shrug.  The dressing gown was ink-stained too, but he had a strong hunch it was about to get wet anyway; he’d change clothes afterwards.

 

Iroh chuckled.  “More than your hands need cleaning now, nephew.” He produced a small hand mirror from his belt pouch and proffered it.  Zuko took it with dread pooling in his stomach, looked in it… and then groaned aloud.  Tiny black smudges and handprints were all over his neck and collarbones, and even his cheeks and jaw! Everywhere the baby had touched him and grabbed at him while calming down and being carried here…

 

“There’s nothing for it but to hop into the tub with him,” Iroh said with a shrug.  “Besides, you’ll be able to hold him more safely while washing him that way.  Here, I’ll hold him while you strip.”

 

So Zuko resignedly stripped and got into the tub, just as Joben came back in with the sword oil and the mild soap powder.  But when Iroh started to hand the baby to Zuko for washing, he began squalling and kicking up a storm, his voice rising to ear-piercing shrieks as he was brought closer to the tub. Iroh stared at the baby in consternation, muttering, “What on earth…?”

 

“It’s okay, ssshhh, I know, but I heated it nice and warm for you, it’s okay,” Zuko said soothingly as he stood up to take the baby, hugging the little boy to his chest while doing his best to ignore the flailing fists and feet.  “It’s nice and warm, I promise,” he said over and over while lowering himself and the baby slowly into the water.  When the baby’s feet first touched the water, he shrieked loud enough to deafen a komodo-rhino, but less than a minute later, he quieted down and was waving his hands in the water in wide-eyed wonder.  “See?  Nice and warm… Now let’s get you clean, okay?”

 

“If he came from peasant folks, this is likely the first warm bath the poor little tyke’s ever had,” Joben said wisely as he started mixing water and soap powder in a small bowl to make a rich lather.

 

“But you knew what was troubling him, even before I did,” Iroh said admiringly as he soaked a rag in the sword oil, then reached out to begin wiping ink off the nearest infant appendage.  “Another indication that you’ll be a fine father to this boy.”

 

“Fatherhood had nothing to do with it,” Zuko snorted as he accepted another oil-soaked rag and started on the other side.  “I just remembered how much I dreaded taking cold baths.”

 

Iroh paused and gave him a strange look. “Prince Zuko, when have you _ever_ taken cold baths?”

 

“I took them for over four months, when I was six years old—hold still, baby!  This oil’s making you slippery!—Anyway, the day after Azula made her first sparks, Father told the servants to stop heating my bathwater, and told me that if I ever wanted a hot bath again I’d better start firebending so I could heat it myself.” Zuko didn’t quite repress a shudder at the memory of those hideously cold baths he had endured, until his firebending had _finally_ kicked in.  Awful times, with his grim-faced servants scrubbing him clean as fast as they could while he tried so hard not to shiver from sitting in that cold, _cold_ water… and Azula had delighted in playing tricks on him that ended up with him covered in mud or muck and needing baths twice a day.  Once she’d gotten him dirty three times in the same horrible day, and that night he’d climbed into bed still shivering miserably.

 

The day after he’d made his first sparks (and came _sooo_ close to setting fire to Azula’s hair; she hadn’t been expecting that at all, and the look on her face had exulted him almost as much as the sparks had), he’d triumphantly told the servants to stand aside so he could heat the water for his bath… then almost wept when, after ten minutes of throwing all the little fires he could make at the tub full of water, it was still unbearably cold. Then one of the firebending palace guards had wandered into the bathroom on a servant’s heels, faked a horrible cough that ‘accidentally’ sent a sizeable fireball into the tub, apologized for his poor manners at coughing so in the prince’s presence, and left as quickly as he came.  And that had been the end of the cold baths… Zuko shook himself back to the present, and went back to scrubbing at ink stains.

 

With a snort of disgust, Joben commented, “Everyone knows cold water sucks a firebender’s power away; cold baths all the time would be more likely to keep a boy from making sparks at all!  What kind of damnfool idiot would--” he abruptly cut himself off and went white as a funeral sheet, as he realized who he’d just been speaking ill of. “I-I-I mean, I’m sure the Fire Lord had his reasons, and they’re not for me to question!”

 

“Indeed,” was all Iroh said in response, looking very grim as he continued scrubbing ink off the baby.  Zuko knew he should defend how his father had chosen to motivate him to begin making fire, knew he should harshly correct Joben’s comment… but right then he was busy trying to clean while fending off splashes; the baby was happily slapping the water while giggling with delight.  And those giggles were… nice to listen to, really…

 

“It is good to see you smiling again, nephew,” his uncle commented a few minutes later, while deftly scrubbing the last of the ink off the baby’s backside.

 

“Huh?” Zuko was startled up from where he’d been tickling the baby’s tummy to keep him giggling.

 

“It has been a very long time since I’ve seen you smile at anything.  But there is something wonderful about a laughing baby, isn’t there?” as Iroh gave him a knowing smile.

 

“…Yeah,” he admitted.  Seeing and hearing the baby laugh and giggle at him, was giving him more of that too-big-but-warm feeling in his chest that he’d had earlier, while traveling with the baby to his ship. He still couldn’t put a name to what he was feeling, and it was actually not just weird but a little scary, but… he also liked it a lot. 

 

Once they’d gotten off all the ink off the baby, Iroh handed Zuko the mirror and took over entertaining the baby while Zuko scrubbed the ink off himself.  Then it was time to lather up with the soap and wash away all the sword oil, then rinse and climb out of the tub.  “Ah, look at you now, all nice and clean,” Iroh cooed as he carefully patted the baby dry with a towel. “What did you think of your very first warm bath?”

 

“How soon will he start talking, anyway?” Zuko asked as he climbed out of the tub, wrapped a larger towel around his waist and wrung out his phoenix-plume.  “I haven’t heard anything but babbling so far.”

 

“He’ll start using short sentences in another year or so, though I should think he already knows a word or two.  But a child’s first words are usually about his favorite toys and his mother, and unfortunately, we don’t have either of those around here,” Iroh concluded sadly, as he finished putting the baby’s diaper on.  Then he brightened a little bit as he added, “But there’s no time like the present for him to begin learning new words, eh?” Then he turned the baby to face Zuko and pointed right at his scarred face as he said, “Little one, this is your Papa Zuko.  Can you say that?  Can you say ‘Papa Zuko’?”

 

Zuko froze, and swallowed hard to force down the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat…  But the baby only babbled some more nonsense in response to his uncle’s words.  He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or disappointed.

 

“Not yet, hm?  Well, don’t worry, you’ll learn it soon enough.  Let’s get you dressed, little one,” Iroh said as he began wrestling the baby into a fresh set of baby clothes while Zuko dried off and got dressed in the clothes Iroh had brought for him.  “Another word he should learn, would be his own name.  Have you thought of a good one yet, nephew?”

 

“Not yet,” Zuko admitted as he pulled on a fresh dressing gown.  “I thought of ‘Li’, but… it just seemed too common for him. I mean, I know his mother was a peasant, but…”

 

Iroh smiled in understanding, then continued, “Well, there’s no better time than right now to think of a few more names. Since he will be your first son, how about ‘Ichiro’?”

 

Zuko froze again in sheer panic—-Bright Agni, was his uncle expecting him to go around finding and adopting _more_ orphans?—-then finally managed to squeak out, “Um, no?”

 

“Well, I suppose not; others might then expect him to become your heir, but the Fire Sages simply wouldn’t allow that,” Iroh mused.  “What about ‘Chokichi’?  He did have the extremely good fortune of you hearing his cries and saving him from certain death.”

 

Joben looked up from where he was draining the tub so it could be refilled for laundry use, and shook his head.  “Begging your pardon, general, but it might not be a good idea to name him that.”

 

“And why not?” as Iroh gave him a bushy raised eyebrow.

 

“Well… permission to speak freely, sirs?” Joben asked warily.  They granted permission, so he went on, “Lieutenant Jee told everyone that you’re sure the baby’s got no witchy powers, but there are still a few folks that aren’t so sure.  Reminding everyone whenever they hear his name how lucky he was that you found him, is just going to make those folks wonder more if it was really just luck or something more than that, like work of the spirits.”  To which Zuko could say absolutely nothing, because according to his uncle, the spirits had been involved in his finding the baby after all. 

 

Iroh must have silently agreed with him, because he said readily, “Not Chokichi, then. But please tell us plainly, Joben, besides those superstitious few, how does the rest of the crew feel about our bringing a baby aboard?”

 

“Uh, well…” Joben hesitated.

 

“Just spit it out,” Zuko growled at Joben, even as he accepted the baby from his uncle’s arms.  “No honey-coating; I need to know the worst of it.”

 

“Yes, sirs!” Joben gulped. “Ah, well, about half the crew thinks it was absolutely crazy to bring a baby aboard the ship.”  Zuko had been expecting that reaction— ** _he_** still thought it was crazy—but it still hurt a little to hear the words spoken out loud.  But then Joben went on, “The other half thinks it might be the best thing that’s happened since you first found the Avatar.”

 

Zuko stared at him.  “…What?”

 

Joben shrugged and spread his hands.  “Lots of us have family we haven’t seen in years, sir.  Sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, a few even have grandchildren that they haven’t seen except in sketches.  They think it’ll be nice to have a little boy running around as a ship’s mascot or something, even if he doesn’t belong to them.” Then he cracked a grin, showing the gap in his teeth.  “Maybe ‘specially if he doesn’t belong to them, because then they won’t be expected to change his diapers all the time.”

 

“Understandable,” Iroh chuckled.

 

After blinking and absorbing that surprising information for a few moments, Zuko looked down at the baby in his arms and asked, “How about ‘Mushi’?” It meant ‘likes soldiers’ but could also mean ‘liked by soldiers’, which seemed appropriate now.

 

Iroh frowned.  “Nephew, I know you have fond memories of him, but if you name that boy after the lion-dog that used to patrol with the imperial guards, I shall be very disappointed in you.”

 

Zuko blushed at the rebuke, and protested, “I don’t mean I think he’s a pet or anything!”

 

Dried off and dressed, they took the baby back to Zuko’s room, still debating baby names.  All the names meaning ‘lucky’ were immediately rejected, for the reason Joben had given; all the names meaning ‘rare’ were likewise rejected, because Zuko felt there was no reason to emphasize his unusual eyes. 

 

Zuko’s room was clean again by the time they got there, and with a new addition; a large earthenware jar with a heavy lid now sat in the corner by the door.  “For putting soiled diapers in,” Iroh said, pointing it out.  Stuff was missing, too, namely all his shoes and boots; Akio apologized for the inconvenience and promised that he’d have them back as soon as they got all the ink stains out of them.  Zuko suppressed a sigh and decided that he could continue going shoeless for a while, then sat down on the bed with the baby in his lap while Iroh retrieved a tea set from his quarters and began brewing a fresh pot.  “Instead of a name based upon his appearance or his circumstances, we should think of names that speak of his future,” his uncle suggested while gripping the teapot to heat the water inside.

 

“A name meaning ‘strong’, then,” Zuko mused aloud, while letting the baby grasp and tug at the frog closures on his dressing gown; he’d have to come up with some toys for the baby to play with, and soon.  "He’ll need to be strong, to survive…  ‘Ken’?  ‘Takeo’?”

 

“Both are good names… but I had something else in mind.  A name that is perhaps more of a promise to him than a wish for him,” Iroh said slowly.  “You could name him ‘Teiji’.”

 

“ ‘Righteous’?” Zuko mused aloud. 

 

“ ‘Well-governed’,” Iroh corrected him.  “Consider it a promise that you will raise him well, with neither too much indulgence to spoil him, nor cruelty to make him fear you.  It can be very challenging, to show love for someone without being too indulgent… to discipline them without being cruel. But I believe you can do it, nephew; you can raise him to be well-governed, so that someday far in the future, he will govern his own children just as well.”

 

“Teiji,” Zuko said aloud, thinking it over. It was scary, choosing a name like that, making a promise that big… but then, he and his uncle had already vowed to his mother’s spirit that they’d see her baby raised to respect and honor her memory. He’d meant at the time that they’d see the boy safely placed with a decent Earth Kingdom family, but… Really, the name wouldn’t be the promise, just a reminder of the promise already made.  And it would be a reminder that what was truly important wasn’t how the baby looked, with those mismatched eyes, but how his elders raised him and how he behaved in response.  “Teiji.”  He looked down at the baby in his arms, and gave a little smile. “Hello, Teiji.”

 

Teiji smiled back at him, reached up to pat his chin with one chubby hand… and then pooped in his diapers again.

 

Iroh winced as the smell wafted to his nose, then chuckled wryly.  “Oh, the joys of fatherhood…  I’ll take care of it, nephew.”

 

“No, I’ll do it this time,” Zuko insisted, though with a gusty sigh, as he gestured for the diaper bag that had been put on his desk.  “If I’m going to raise him, I’d better get used to this…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

When Zhao’s task force of warships reached Crescent Island, Zhao personally led the attack as his men stormed the Fire Sages’ temple there.  They quickly captured the Avatar’s companions, and were almost in time to prevent the child Avatar from contacting his predecessor, Avatar Roku.

 

Unfortunately, the key word in that sentence was ‘almost.’

 

After the Avatar’s escape and the volcanic explosion that completely wrecked the temple and crippled one of Zhao’s ships, since Prince Zuko wasn’t handy to pin all the blame on, Zhao found the scapegoats he needed in the Fire Sages. The High Sage protested that only one of them had helped the Avatar, but he declared them all to be traitors and had them imprisoned in the flagship’s holding cells. 

 

He glared off to the East, the direction the Avatar’s bison had been fleeing in, and vowed that one day the Avatar would be in one of those holding cells. To go down in history as the man to capture the Avatar… Zhao would make a glorious reputation for himself that would last for a thousand years, or die trying!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

As an officer, Jee technically had the right to eat in the officers’ quarters.  But he had risen through the enlisted ranks before becoming an officer, and on this ship the only other officers were royalty, so instead Jee always ate with the crew in the mess hall.  Tonight he nodded to the galley assistant taking the tray of dinner up to the royal quarters, noting the extra cup, bowl and spoon on the tray, before sitting down in his usual spot next to Tetsuko.

 

Dinners were always noisy affairs, but tonight the conversation levels reached epic proportions, and most of them were about the baby Prince Zuko had brought aboard: Had the prince given the baby a name yet? Had the general said it wasn’t a witch-child because he was **_sure_** , or just to prevent a mutiny?  What if the baby’s real father found out where he was and came for him?  What would Fire Lord Ozai have to say about his son adopting an Earth Kingdom peasant child?  What if the baby turned out to be an earthbender? When the general had assembled the cleaning detail for the prince’s cabin, had anyone heard him mention a name for the baby?  That mess in the cabin; did _normal_ babies make that much of a mess that quickly? (That was answered with a resounding ‘ ** _yes_** ’ from nearly a dozen throats at once, followed by a round of competitive horror stories about messes their own children had made.)  What if the one blue eye meant the baby was half-Water Tribe?  What if he turned out to be a waterbender?  What if the two different eye colors meant he could bend both earth _and_ water? 

 

“ ** _Attention on deck!_** ”

 

That was almost _never_ heard in the mess hall.  Everyone scrambled up out of their seats while whipping around to stare at Akio, who’d leaped to his feet with eyes wide, then whipped around again to stare at what he was staring at:  Prince Zuko standing in the doorway, with his uncle by his side, and the baby in his arms.

 

“Oh, please, sit down; no need to be so formal!” General Iroh said with a smile, making settling gestures with his hands. Prince Zuko didn’t say anything, so they slowly and warily sat back down, though no one was quite bold enough to pick up their chopsticks again.

 

In the sudden silence, the prince glared at them all for a few seconds before saying abruptly, “I’ve named him Teiji.  The baby.  His name’s Teiji.”  Then he turned to leave, presumably to head back to his quarters with the baby.

 

But General Iroh stepped in his way without seeming to do so and said, “Prince Zuko, it occurs to me that since children are so brilliant at making messes when they eat, and the royal quarters have already been scrubbed clean once this afternoon, perhaps it would be more _efficient_ to feed Teiji here in the mess hall.”

 

Zuko stared at his uncle, then glanced around the mess hall almost in a panic.  For once, Jee could almost read the boy prince’s thoughts; did his uncle want the _entire crew_ to see him trying—and occasionally failing—to spoon-feed the baby?

 

“Efficiency is important in running a tight ship, after all.  You’ve said so many times yourself,” Iroh declared cheerily as he nudged the prince and his charge over to a table in the corner.  Jiro and Tadao, who normally sat there, grabbed their food and scrambled out of their seats without being asked, leaving the table to the royals. The galley assistant, who had been right behind the royals, set their dinner tray on the table before bowing and withdrawing.

 

Jee knew that if the crew continued to stare at that proud prince while he fumbled his way through the feeding, there’d be hell to pay later for every moment of embarrassment.  So he picked up his chopsticks again and started loudly talking with Tetsuko about the latest gossip from the colonies, while gesturing for the next table over to start doing the same.  Within a few minutes there were at least a dozen reasonably loud, utterly pointless conversations going on all over the mess hall, while everyone discretely kept one eye and ear on the royals’ table: 

 

“Open wide, Teiji… Good boy.  Isn’t that—no, don’t spit it out!  Oh, come on, it’s yummy food; open wide… Open your mouth, Teiji… Look, I’ll try some myself; see? It’s… yuck! This is so bland it’s horrible!  No wonder Teiji won’t eat it.  Why is the cook trying to feed my son this slop?!”

 

“Babies generally can’t tolerate the spicy foods we adults enjoy, nephew.”

 

“Well, there’s got to be something better than this that he can eat!  Here, give me that rice, I know he’ll eat that… Look, Teiji, yummy rice!  Open wide… there’s a good boy!  Go ahead, eat it all up… ready for more?  Here comes another spoonful… Good boy!”

 

“A baby will not thrive on rice alone, nephew; you’ll have to find a way to get him to eat his vegetables too.  But I suppose that can wait for another meal…”

 

Jee couldn’t help smiling as he overheard the conversation; it almost exactly mirrored one he’d had with his wife many years ago.  He privately decided that sometime soon, he’d let the new father know about the tricks he’d come up with to get his children to eat their vegetables.

 

“Didja hear him say ‘my son’ when he was complaining about the baby food?” Tetsuko murmured to him under cover of conversation.  “Agni help us, I think he’s _serious_ about keeping this Earth Kingdom kid…”

 

“Yes, he is.  And yes, he heard you,” Jee murmured back to her.  Tetsuko automatically turned her eyes towards the prince, who met her eyes with his usual fierce glare and a curt nod of acknowledgment; she blushed and dropped her eyes to her dinner.

 

Jee gave her a lopsided smirk of not-quite-sympathy, before returning to his own dinner. Agni help them, indeed; there would be interesting days ahead…

 

 

.

 _To be continued!_


	3. Indulged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Added after initial post) A few reviewers at FFnet commented after chapter 2 was posted, on how surprisingly quickly Zuko took to the idea of adoption and teenaged fatherhood. I'll admit that at first glance at Season One Zuko, the Angry Jerk, it seems pretty out-of-character for him to suddenly adopt a child. But Zuko has always had more going on beneath the surface than he lets others see.
> 
> Even in the first two seasons, underneath his misplaced anger and his Really Severe Daddy Issues, Zuko has a good heart. Flashbacks of his childhood aside, we saw evidence of his inner compassion when he risked his own life to save the helmsman during "The Storm". We saw it again in the second season episode "Zuko Alone", when the boy Li snuck into the barn where he was sleeping to take and play with his swords... and instead of chewing the kid up one side and down the other for taking his weapons without permission, Zuko gave him some basic pointers on swordsmanship. It was that compassionate impulse that sent Zuko running into the woods, following the sound of a baby crying in the wilds. The compassion continued through the baby's rescue from the ravine, though after that Zuko thought his good deed was done and was more than ready to resume hunting the Avatar; Iroh had to manipulate him into holding the baby again.
> 
> Never underestimate the power of Touch, particularly on someone with a trace of compassion. Zuko had nearly a full hour of holding the mostly-sleeping baby before they reached the village; an hour of holding a warm living being in his arms, when I'd bet gold that nobody, even Iroh, had dared do more than rest the occasional hand on his shoulder for a few seconds now and then over the last three years. The bonding started even then, which is why when they reached the village and Zuko found out the headman would have killed the baby, there was absolutely no question at all that they'd take the baby with them for safety, instead of just telling the headman that the baby was NOT a witch-child, and that the village owed it to his mother to look after the baby now.
> 
> When told by Iroh that a powerful spirit had chosen HIM to raise the baby, Zuko did a lot of panicking and mental flailing-and-running-in-circles; he didn't instantly think of the baby as his son. But he kept holding onto the baby because Iroh had the reins, and the baby was holding onto him in return... panicking slowly turned to resigned acceptance. And later on came that bathtub scene, being able to comfort the baby and more than that, make him laugh... that's the first time anyone has smiled because of something Zuko did in years. Positive feedback does wonders for any relationship!
> 
> Then came the naming, and naming someone is laying claim to them in a way. By the time of the mess hall scene, Zuko was indeed thinking of Teiji as his child.

Zuko awoke to his second day of fatherhood, still not knowing what the hells he was doing… but he thought with just a smidgen of pride that so far, he seemed to be okay at improvising.

 

Last night after dinner, he’d brought Teiji back to his— _their_ cabin, then gotten down on his hands and knees and begun crawling everywhere. Teiji had been delighted to have company on the floor and had crawled right alongside him, and even right _under_ him to come out giggling on the other side.  But while Teiji had thought it was all a game, Zuko had done it for the purpose of Teiji-proofing his belongings.  He’d figured that anything he could reach while crawling, Teiji could reach while standing up, and wanted to make sure that everything valuable or breakable was out of the baby’s range. 

 

The new inkwell had gone straight up to a high shelf, one with a short retaining wall around the edge to keep items from sliding off as the ship rocked in the waves. He also moved up there the new stack of blank papers, and the ink brushes he used for writing.  He’d been lucky that none of the papers Teiji had ruined earlier had been irreplaceable; one had been the weekly letter to his father that he’d barely begun writing, and the rest had been messages of Avatar sightings that were already outdated.

 

He’d cleared another high shelf for his shoes and boots, deciding that the low shelf they’d been on would be used for Teiji’s toys later on. All his clothes would be safe where they were, so long as he kept the lid to his sea chest not just closed, but latched and locked.   He already kept the lid closed just to keep things tidy; unlocking and relocking it every morning would be a minor nuisance, but he could live with that easier than living with all his clothes stained with ink or whatever.  He’d put Teiji’s clothes in the sea chest too, as they didn’t take up too much space, but put the clean diapers up on a shelf, already knowing he’d need them more than once or twice a day.

 

With a small sigh of mixed nostalgia and regret, he’d pulled the special rock Mai had given him, a bit of volcanic rock roughly shaped like a heart, out of the little hiding place he’d arranged for it by the head of his bed.  If he could reach into the nook easily and get it out when he was feeling particularly wretched and in need of even a scrap of comfort from memories, then the baby could reach in and get it too. He'd heard somewhere that babies put anything and everything into their mouths, and he had no desire for Teiji to either choke on the small stone or get drool all over his keepsake.

Teiji had poked curiously at the rock in his hand, before he’d curled his fingers protectively over it. “It’s from someone I know, back in the Fire Nation,” he’d told Teiji solemnly.  “I haven’t heard from her in nearly three years, since I was banished, but she used to be my… my girlfriend, sort of.  We never called each other that, but we kissed once, just a week before the Agni Kai. She was really my only friend besides Ty Lee; I hope you can meet them both someday.” Then he’d mentally shoved aside all the questions his heart kept asking—did she even remember him? Had her parents betrothed her to someone else in the last few years?—and had put the rock under all the clothes in his sea chest, before locking the chest again.

 

Then he’d sat down on the floor again with Teiji and something he’d pulled off the high shelf he’d put his writing supplies on; an incense burner shaped like a resting dragon.  Uncle Iroh had given it to him a couple of years ago, probably in hopes that he’d take up  _Kōdō_ as a hobby after he’d made it clear that he didn’t share his uncle’s obsession with tea. He’d never used it, since he had no use for sitting around sniffing incense any more than sitting around sipping tea, but he hadn’t thrown it away either.  He’d taken out the lone stick of sandalwood incense, then set the long wooden dragon-shape in front of Teiji with a smile.  “Look, Teiji; it’s a dragon! A toy dragon, I mean.  …Well, actually it’s an incense burner, but there’s no reason why it can’t be a toy for you.  Dragons were wonderful creatures; they flew through the sky like this,” as he’d made the incense burner swoop and soar over Teiji as he giggled with delight, “and they breathed fire, like this!” as he’d held the burner up next to his mouth and spit out a tiny tongue of flame, trying to make it seem like the dragon was doing it instead of him.  “They were the very first firebenders.  They’re not around anymore, which is really tragic—just don’t ever tell Uncle Iroh I said that—but you can still have this one as a toy!”

 

He’d played with Teiji and the toy dragon for a while, like his uncle must have played with him when he’d been really little.  He had vague memories of hearing Uncle Iroh’s booming laughter and seeing his smiling face towering over him as he’d played with toy soldiers in the nursery, and helping to line them up in ranks (though he had no memories at all of his father doing that with him. Had he been such a disappointment to his father even when he’d been that young?)  Teiji had clapped, giggled and shrieked with laughter as he’d made the dragon fly and swoop around the room, and over the bed as those rumpled sheets had suddenly become a wilderness of ridges and valleys for the dragon to hunt in.

 

Eventually he’d set the dragon toy aside and just played with Teiji directly: tickling him like he’d done earlier during the bath; picking him up to swoop him about the cabin like a hatchling dragon or messenger hawk; getting down on hands and knees to let Teiji crawl under and around him again, calling out ‘where’s Teiji?’ every time he lost sight of the boy and pretending surprised delight to find him again; taking the baby’s tiny hands to swing him back and forth just above the bed.  Every time he’d been rewarded with giggles, laughter and spontaneous hugs, he’d thought again that playtime was clearly the best part of fatherhood; he hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in… in a very, _very_ long time.  

 

Eventually Teiji had started yawning, indicating he was ready for bed, with what Zuko had thought was perfect timing; the sun had been setting, and despite his long nap earlier he’d still been tired from being up for two days and nights straight.  He’d managed to hold his breath long enough to do one final diaper change—an unexpected bonus to all the breath control exercises Uncle had drilled him in; they were good for more than firebending—and then they’d gone to bed together. 

 

Teiji had been wiggly and refused to settle down at first, but after he’d put out the last candle with a touch of firebending, the little boy had huddled right up against him.  “Afraid of the dark, huh?” he’d murmured soothingly.  “It’s okay; I was afraid of the dark too, when I was really little.  It wasn’t until I was a lot older than you that I learned how the darkness can be your friend… but I’ll tell you about that some other time.”  He’d sung ‘Leaves from the Vine’ while cuddling Teiji close, and soon fallen asleep to the sound of the baby’s soft little snores.

 

The next morning they’d both woken up at dawn.  By the time he’d gotten Teiji’s diaper changed again, Uncle had been knocking on the door with a tea tray for the two adults, and a cup of plain water for Teiji.  And a wooden top and small kokeshi doll for the baby to play with, too; Uncle seemed to pick up souvenirs from every port they stopped in, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d picked up a few toys as well.  Fortunately, Uncle was neither surprised nor displeased to see what Zuko had turned into Teiji’s first toy, and he’d played with the baby while Zuko had gotten dressed and ready for the day.

 

When his uncle had come in, he’d reported that Zuko’s shoes and boots were lined up outside his door; the crewmen had finished cleaning ink off them sometime during the night.  He brought them in and looked them over critically; there were still faint shadows of ink stains here and there, but they weren’t _too_ noticeable. “They actually did a better job of cleaning up the ink stains than I’d thought possible; perhaps because they were cleaned so soon after getting stained,” Iroh commented, and he absently nodded agreement as he donned a pair of boots.  He put the remaining pairs up on the high shelf, and then they went together down to the mess hall again for breakfast. 

 

Zuko had hated having dinner in the mess hall yesterday; he normally only ate with the crew when he was expected to, on the special feast days that officers traditionally shared with their crew. They always stared at him when he did, and he _hated_ being stared at (he already knew he was ugly but he didn’t need constant reminders); those stares always killed his appetite.  But this morning, the stares… weren’t as bad as before.  He noticed some crewmen even sort-of smiling in his direction while he fed Teiji, which was weird, but not in a bad way.  Maybe Joben had been right about some of the crewmen actually liking the idea of his bringing a baby aboard. 

 

After finishing breakfast, he put Teiji in the baby sling for carrying him up ladders, and went up to the bridge; just because he had adopted a baby didn’t mean he’d forgotten his mission of capturing the Avatar.  Lieutenant Jee was there waiting for him by the ship’s log, with a look on his face that Zuko had learned well over the last two years; that half-angry, half-resigned look that meant _I did something that’s going to get me yelled at by Prince Zuko_. 

 

With a suspicious look at Jee, Zuko started reading the ship’s log to see what entries had been made since he’d started searching for his uncle… and soon found the reason for that look on his lieutenant’s face.  “We had a sky bison sighting?  _Two nights ago_?  _And you **didn’t tell me about it**_?! _You_ \--”

 

“Uah, ah, _waaahh_!”

 

_Cinders_! He’d forgotten for a moment that he was holding Teiji.  Yesterday after the mess in the cabin and his worries that the baby had been hurt, Teiji hadn’t calmed down until after Zuko had calmed himself.  Now it seemed there was a flip side to this mirroring of his moods; if he got upset for any reason, so did the baby!  So Zuko broke off his berating in a hurry, before Teiji started really shrieking, and started rubbing his son’s back instead. “Oh, ssshhh, Teiji; it’s okay, I’m not mad at you… Calm down, there’s a good boy,” he murmured soothingly.  “Ssshhh, it’s okay…”

 

“My apologies for not informing you the moment you came aboard, sir,” Jee said stiffly while he was busy calming Teiji.  “I had meant to, but I was… distracted by your unexpected companion.”

 

Zuko had to admit, Teiji was pretty distracting.  He nodded curt acknowledgment, then admitted, “I also had a sighting of the sky bison, while searching for the general’s kidnappers.  But I couldn’t pursue it at the time, and by the time I’d rescued first my uncle and then a baby, it had gotten too far ahead of me for further sightings.”  Now that Teiji was calm again, he moved to the map at the navigator’s station.  “When I spotted the bison, I was… right about here,” as he pointed to the spot on the map.  “And the ship was waiting in this inlet; that’s a west-by-northwest course…”

 

“The bison looked to be flying north-by-northwest at the time of our sighting, sir,” the navigator said respectfully. 

 

“Hmm.  He changed course to keep clear of Fire Nation waters,” Zuko mused aloud as he studied the map.  It made sense; the Avatar was somehow still a child instead of an old man, but he wasn’t a complete moron, and only an utter fool would fly right into enemy territory for no good reason.

 

“Based on our sighting, sir, we plotted a course to the nearest city in that direction; the colony of Pan Gao,” as Jee tapped the place on the map.  Zuko nodded; again, that made sense.  Pan Gao was the colony closest to the Fire Nation border and had been established decades ago, but by the last Zuko had heard, they still had some problems with rebels in the nearby forests, just like Gaipan further north. It stood to reason that anywhere you had rebel bases, you had people friendly to the Avatar; people he might try to make contact with.

 

Jee continued, “While you were sleeping, I took the river steamer and an away team into port and personally questioned the colony mayor and head of the guard on your behalf.  Unfortunately, none of their people had seen any sign of the Avatar. I also asked about the rebels, but they haven’t had any recent incidents with them, either; not since capturing their ringleader two months back. If the Avatar had been thinking to join and rally them like he did the earthbenders aboard the prison barge, he was two months too late.  So we’ve maintained this heading while waiting for further direction from you, sir.”

 

Zuko nodded acknowledgment again; Jee had done everything that Zuko would have ordered done if he’d been awake and aware at the time. “Maintain present course until we receive news of another sighting,” he ordered. He was sure that the Avatar had slipped past the colony undetected by veering inland to the forests and flying low over the trees. He’d escaped them this time…  But Zuko remembered his uncle’s words from two nights before, and said aloud with confidence, “We’ll find him again.  We found him the first time after he’d been hiding from everyone for a hundred years, and we found him again after all the tricks he pulled to confuse his trail in the southern seas. We’ll find him again, and next time he won’t escape!” 

 

“Yes, sir!” everyone present on the bridge chorused, all of them standing tall… and sort-of not-quite-smiling at him again.  That was really weird, but again, not in a bad way.  “B’gaah!” Teiji said cheerfully, as if in agreement.

 

Iroh had come up onto the bridge while he was speaking, and looked both surprised and delighted with the crew’s response.  Then he clapped and said “Very well said, Prince Zuko!” Which made Zuko blink in puzzlement; didn’t Uncle remember saying basically those same words to him earlier, while they were riding the komodo-rhino together? He almost said that aloud, but decided against it; his poor uncle didn’t need to start the morning with another reminder of his encroaching senility.

 

Soon afterwards, Zuko handed Teiji over to Uncle’s safekeeping and went with Lieutenant Jee down to the main deck for a sparring session.  After his Agni Kai with Zhao, Uncle had acknowledged he’d finally learned his basics well enough and began teaching him the more advanced forms, but he definitely needed more practice in them.  He tried out two of them in the sparring session, and while he wasn’t able to beat Jee using them he at least made the lieutenant work harder. But before either of them could win the last match, the deck suddenly tilted hard to starboard, as the ship abruptly changed course.

 

His heart in his throat, Zuko scrambled for the ladder to the bridge, with Jee right behind him.  “What's the meaning of this mutinous behavior?” he demanded of the helmsman. “No one told you to change course!” 

 

“Actually, someone did. I assure you it is a matter of utmost importance, Prince Zuko,” his uncle said gravely from where he was sitting at the pai sho board, with Teiji sitting in his lap happily babbling and waving at him.

 

His heart started pounding even harder, no longer from fear—the last mutiny they’d had aboard had been deadly enough, and now he had a helpless baby to worry about too—but from hope. “Is it something to do with the Avatar?” he asked, wondering if they’d gotten a hawk-message while he and Jee had been sparring.

 

“Even more urgent.  Take a look at my lotus tile,” Iroh said as he picked a pai sho tile off the board and flipped it at him.

 

Confused, he caught the tile in midair and looked at it closely.  The lotus design on it was looking somewhat mutilated now; it was covered with tiny… “Tooth marks?” he said aloud, then looked at his son reprovingly. “Teiji, this isn’t food!  Besides, you should still be full from breakfast!”

 

“Your son is teething, nephew,” Iroh informed him, while bouncing Teiji on his knee. “Teething babies need things to chew on, to help their teeth rise up through their gums.  You have a few wooden toys already that he may chew on, but he’ll gnaw them to bits soon enough… and there is still the matter of that rash on his poor bottom, from all the time he spent without anyone to change his diaper before you found him.  Our ship’s doctor told me yesterday evening that he’s never treated any patient younger than you yourself; he doesn’t know what ointment is best for such cases.”

 

“So you set our course for a port town where we can find more baby supplies, and maybe a wise-woman for the doctor to talk to about medicine for babies,” Zuko guessed aloud.

 

“And perhaps a new lotus tile for me,” as Iroh nodded and beamed at him.  “I knew you would understand, nephew!”

 

Zuko not only understood, he felt guilty about not having ordered that course change himself earlier; he’d seen that painful-looking rash on Teiji’s bottom more than anyone else aboard.  (Not that he admitted that aloud, with his crew right there listening.) Instead, he told Teiji while caressing his son’s fine black hair, “Maybe we’ll find some toy soldiers for you to play with, too.  I used to like playing with toy soldiers when I was a little boy.” Before Azula had grown up enough to start playing with his toys, anyway. One day she’d taken his soldiers and either lost them all in the turtle-duck pond or just hidden them somewhere he could never find, because he’d never seen them again.

 

“Unbelievable,” the helmsman whispered under his breath, and then tried to look like he hadn’t said anything when Zuko gave him a sharp look.  What was so unbelievable about little boys playing with toy soldiers?

 

After Zuko had determined that they were headed for Laosing, an Earth Kingdom neutral port, Lieutenant Jee asked, “Will you grant the crew permission to go ashore?”

 

A neutral port wasn’t the same as a friendly port… but his men all knew that. Since babies didn’t normally live on ships, the docks likely had very few shops that carried baby supplies.  They might have to venture off the docks, and into the village behind the port. It would probably take a while for his uncle to find the baby things they needed and wanted to get—plus another lotus tile for his uncle’s silly game—and for the doctor to find a good wise-woman to talk to. There was really no reason _not_ to let his men go ashore if they expected to be there a while, so Zuko nodded and ordered, “They can go ashore in groups of four, with no more than two groups away at any time.  They’re all to keep their ears open about Avatar sightings, and I want everyone back aboard by sunset.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” as Jee nodded with another almost-smile and went to pass the orders along.  His uncle beamed at him and complimented him on being so generous with his crew. Which just bewildered him again; what was with all these people smiling and almost-smiling at him lately?  …Oh, they’d _better not_ be hiding another illegal _still_ in the beast-hold, or anywhere else…

 

Well, searching his ship for the new still would have to wait until nightfall, when he could put on the black clothing and mask and skulk about unseen.  In the meantime, they had some shopping to do.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Soon after the prince learned about the course change, the baby’s diaper started stinking and the prince took him back to his cabin to get him changed and cleaned up.  Jiro stared at the bridge door long after he’d left and whispered again, “Unbelievable.”

 

Lieutenant Jee was close enough to hear him, and gave him an enquiring look. “What’s unbelievable?”

 

“Sir, where do I start?” Jiro said with a helpless shrug.  “This whole morning has been unbelievable! Normally, Prince Zuko would have… er, begging the esteemed general’s pardon; permission to speak freely?”

 

“Please do,” General Iroh said, giving him both a raised eyebrow and a genial smile.

 

“Thank you, sir. Normally, finding out we had an Avatar sighting but didn’t tell him about it as soon as possible, would have had him ranting at us all for ten minutes straight.  But this time it wasn’t even for ten seconds!  I’ve never seen him calm down so fast before.  And after you ordered the course change… he just went along with it, no objection at all once he found out why, even said everyone could go ashore when we reach port.  And now he’s changing a baby’s diaper?  _Royalty, changing diapers_?  It’s just unbelievable!”

 

General Iroh smiled wryly.  “Perhaps so.  And I am sure that if we were back home in the Fire Nation, living in the palace, the idea of changing his adopted son’s diapers would never have crossed Prince Zuko’s mind.  But we are far from the palace, and my nephew knows it would be inefficient to assign a crewman to wait on Teiji solely for diaper changing duty.  And I might add that he has my example to draw on; after we first found the baby, I handled the first two diaper changes myself.  Not that I’d ever changed a diaper before, either, but in my days on the battlefield… I’ve seen men disemboweled, with the contents of their stomachs and intestines strewn all over their cooling corpses; men crushed to bloody pulps by boulders, to where they were barely recognizable as having once been human.” His face darkened with grim memory as he spoke, and the younger men on the bridge shivered as they tried not to picture what he’d seen with his own eyes.  Then he lightened as he finished, “Compared to that, dealing with a baby’s soiled bottom is no hardship at all!”

 

“As you say, sir,” Jiro said dutifully, and decided to let the whole thing drop. It did make sense that the prince would start changing diapers for efficiency’s sake; Prince Zuko did talk about the importance of efficiency sometimes. Though the crew had been certain it was only as a counter-argument whenever his uncle tried to talk him into doing or allowing something even halfway fun. 

 

What the general had said wasn’t actually a response to two of the unbelievable things Jiro had brought up. But he decided to let that drop too; if he kept on bringing up the fact that Prince Zuko was suddenly acting _reasonable_ , instead of utterly obsessed with capturing the Avatar and regaining his honor as the crown prince and heir to the throne, it would only get more and more awkward.

 

Tadao was still sure that the baby with mismatched eyes was a witch-child that had somehow enthralled both the prince and the general, and Jiro had to admit that he wasn’t as dismissive of that idea now as he had been before.  But he also didn’t think that this enthrallment was such a bad thing…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Iroh knew very well what the helmsman had been referring to about Zuko’s behavior, but chose not to respond because in truth, he didn’t know how to respond.  He had some idea why Zuko had changed so abruptly, literally overnight, but honestly feared to speak of it yet; not when the change was still so new and raw and fragile…

 

Fragile as a baby boy.  An innocent child who needed a parent, someone to protect and love him, and who freely returned all the affection shown to him.

 

It had occurred to Iroh more than once over the last few years of traveling the world and searching for the Avatar, that under the harsh and perpetually angry exterior Zuko kept between himself and the entire world, there was a lonely and miserable boy who was desperate for affection from anyone, but unable to accept it because he thought he didn’t deserve it. 

 

Over the last five years Iroh had done his best to show the care and affection he felt for his nephew, but had generally been rebuffed; at first with too-polite deflection, but since the banishing, he’d been continually pushed back to arm’s length and sometimes even insulted for his efforts at guidance and affection.  It was in part Iroh’s own fault, that distance between them; he could have reached out to that poor motherless boy as soon as he’d returned to the Fire Nation, but instead he’d spent over a year still wallowing in his own pain and grief over the loss of Lu Ten and even of his birthright as heir to the throne.

 

Once he’d even brushed aside little Zuko’s attempt to comfort him, soon after his return. Things would likely be very different now if he had accepted the boy’s shy invitation to have a picnic in the garden with the turtle-duck pond.  But he had not, and by the time he had come to appreciate his nephew as a promising young man and as a second son, the boy’s walls had been raised, and nearly as difficult to breach as the walls of Ba Sing Se.

 

Since the banishing, Iroh had also had far fewer opportunities to safely show that affection; if he was seen treating Zuko as a parent-substitute would treat a son in front of the crew, it would only serve to undermine Zuko’s authority as captain of the ship.  An authority that had been on shaky ground from the very beginning, considering the vast age difference between captain and crew: Zuko had come aboard a thirteen-year-old boy, in charge of forty men who averaged over twice that age. 

 

And there had been other issues with the crew besides that vast age difference.  Iroh never said so aloud, but he was certain that Ozai had deliberately ordered that the crew for Zuko’s ship be assembled from the dregs of the Fire Nation fleet.  Far too many of them had come aboard with discipline problems, drinking problems and worse; it became clear from reading the records of court-martial that at least three men had been given the choice between serving the banished prince, and time in the brig.  Even if Iroh were in command of the ship—a command he could never take even if Zuko had offered it to him; Ozai had deliberately forbidden him to ever take command, as a condition of his accompanying Zuko at all—even if Iroh had been in charge with his far greater experience at commanding troops, that mutiny in their first few months at sea would have been nearly inevitable.

 

Thanks in part to that mutiny, Zuko had decided early in their mission that to maintain his authority as ship captain, the young teenager would have to be hard as steel and harsh with the slightest signs of disobedience.  There was some merit to that attitude, but it made it very difficult for Iroh to show affection for Zuko when he was constantly barking orders at everyone, and almost impossible for Zuko to show affection back.  But now Zuko had been shoved into a new authority role; that of _parenthood_.  And to Iroh’s surprised pleasure, his nephew was proving to be surprisingly good at it.

 

Iroh had spent most of the last evening after dinner with his ear glued to the bulkhead between his and Zuko’s cabins, ready to step in and help out if ever Teiji proved to be more than Zuko could handle, but it hadn’t been necessary.  Instead, he’d heard the baby laughing, giggling and generally having a grand time playing with his new father… and had occasionally heard Zuko laughing right along with the child.  And speaking in such warm and happy tones that Iroh had been very tempted to step in and interrupt just to see his nephew’s smiles with his own eyes.  He hadn’t done that, knowing it was important for Zuko and Teiji to have time alone together for truly bonding as father and son, but he’d been sorely tempted.

 

It certainly helped ease Zuko’s abrupt shift to parenthood that little Teiji was generally a happy and affectionate baby, instead of one that fussed and cried all the time. But there was definitely more to it than the child’s amiable personality.  True parenting involved not just giving children food, shelter and direction in their lives; it also involved showing affection—indeed, that was nearly a requirement.  Being a father allowed Zuko to be an _affectionate_ authority figure, someone who _cared_ … and Iroh was inclined to believe that, despite all his harsh dealings with his crew, that is what Zuko had been all along.  He’d spoken up in the war room nearly three years ago, and been ready to duel a highly decorated general, out of outrage that a division of raw recruits were to be sacrificed as bait; of course he cared about his people!  He just hadn’t shown anyone how much he cared, until the spirits had seen fit to give him a baby to raise.

 

Iroh’s musings over the pai sho board were abruptly interrupted by the screech of an approaching messenger hawk.  Lieutenant Jee received the message, unsealed and read it… then winced. After the message was handed to him, Iroh understood exactly why Jee had winced, because he was doing it himself.

 

Ten minutes later, Zuko came back onto the bridge, with a freshly diapered Teiji and a questioning look.  “I heard a messenger hawk earlier; what’s the news?”

 

Iroh couldn’t help stalling for a moment, saying uneasily, “It will not please you to hear of this, nephew… but there is a bright side to the news!”

 

His delay only earned him an ugly glare as Zuko growled, “Tell me!”

 

“Well… it would appear that the Avatar’s change in course as it passed over the ship yesterday before dawn, was only temporary.  Instead of heading for any of our colonies or Earth Kingdom cities, he flew over the border into the Fire Nation.”  Zuko just gaped at him in astonishment as he hurried to continue, “According to the message, he cowardly evaded the blockade at the border by flying far around them and entering at an unguarded point, then flew straight to Crescent Island and persuaded the Fire Sages there to turn traitor and help him destroy the Fire Temple there, and crippled one of Zhao’s blockade ships when they came there in answer to a hawk-message for help.”

 

After a long and painful pause in which Zuko took several deep breaths, he said in low but deadly tones, “Because I failed to capture him before now, the Avatar _invaded our country_ and destroyed a sacred temple.” From in his sling Teiji looked worriedly up at him, but the teenager managed to keep his temper enough that the baby didn’t start crying again. Zuko continued in that same deadly tone, “Please, tell me what you consider to be the ‘bright side’ to that.”

 

“Well, it involves a bit of reading between the lines… and reading a map as well,” as Iroh gestured at the navigator’s map on the table.  “Look at what lies between Crescent Island and the inlet the ship was moored in yesterday."

Zuko did so, and his lone eyebrow rose. “That course would lead straight through the blockade. Which stretches clear to… this point here, and given what we’ve seen of the sky bison’s speed, diverting that far to an unguarded point would be at least another day’s flight. He couldn’t have detoured around the blockade and reached Crescent Island in just one day.”

“So he did not,” Iroh declared.  “Instead of detouring around, I have absolutely no doubt that the Avatar flew right over that blockade.” He gave a wry smile.  “Zhao stated that he would hunt the Avatar down before you.  But instead of having to seek him out, the Avatar came right to him…”

 

“And Zhao _still_ couldn’t capture him,” Zuko finished, with the beginning of a wicked smile curling his lips.

 

“Indeed.  And when he failed to stop the Avatar from crossing the border, Zhao took at least one ship, broke blockade formation and followed the Avatar to Crescent Island.  There was no hawk-message sent to the blockade for help; if there had been any such message, it would have been sent to the nearest Home Guard port instead.  Zhao ignored his orders in yet another attempt to capture the Avatar and bring glory to himself… and botched it so badly that not only did his ship get damaged, so did the Fire Temple!” Iroh almost laughed as he said that, then sobered. “Not that he’ll ever admit that; not when he can seize someone else for a scapegoat.  The Fire Sages haven’t been loyal to the Avatar for over a hundred years; after Avatar Roku died, they declared their allegiance to the Fire Lord above all others.  Zhao can call them traitors, but he wouldn’t dare execute them all for treason on the spot.  I have little doubt that once they are questioned by the imperial interrogators, the whole sordid story will come out, showing Zhao as an overambitious fool who no longer merits command of the blockade.”

 

“Which is _such_ a shame for that poor fellow,” Lieutenant Jee said, the sarcasm in his voice so thick it could have been slathered on bread.  “I might even shed a tear for him… if someone steps on my toes first.”

 

Zuko stifled a snicker at that crack, while Iroh outright chuckled.  Teiji had no idea what was being said, of course, but he still contributed a happy burble and clapped his hands in delight, as if laughing at Jee’s joke  Which actually made Zuko _grin_ , as he patted Teiji to applaud his excellent timing; a genuinely mirthful smile that seemed to light up the whole bridge.

 

But the smile didn’t last long.  Soon afterwards, Zuko was frowning and saying with clear regret, “If the spotters had only gotten the correct heading at the time of sighting two nights ago…”

 

No, Iroh wasn’t about to let his nephew start thinking that way again.  He interrupted, “We should be glad they did _not_ , nephew.  Given that the Avatar had three hours’ head start by the time we were aboard, even if we ran the boilers into the danger zone the whole way, there is no way we could have caught up to the Avatar before he flew over the blockade.  And you _know_ what would happen if you attempted to cross the border into our home waters, without the Avatar already captured and chained in our hold!”  And when Zuko opened his mouth again to protest, Iroh overrode him again with a sharp, “And if you think your father would make an exception for your being in hot pursuit of the Avatar at the time—which is very doubtful—consider the fact that _Zhao_ commands the blockade.  Zhao, whom you recently beat in Agni Kai; he will not have forgotten that. Or forgotten that he was doubly shamed in front of his men, by being caught in a dishonorable move afterwards!”

 

“If you’ll pardon my saying so, sirs,” Jee interrupted, “I had the misfortune of serving under Zhao for four of the most miserable years of my life, and I can tell you this: he never forgets an insult or an embarrassment, and he’ll get revenge on you in any way he can.  If you’d been caught anywhere _near_ that debacle Zhao was involved in yesterday, you can bet his official report would be blaming _you_ for the whole thing, calling you a traitor instead of the Fire Sages.”

 

“Hm.” Zuko considered that for a few moments, then slowly nodded his acceptance.  “Well, then… Anything in the message on the direction the Avatar was heading when he left Crescent Island?”

 

“East by northeast, sir.  Back to the Earth Kingdom.”

 

“Back where we can hunt him down, and without Zhao’s interference for at least a short time, while he tries to cover all his tracks from yesterday’s mess,” Zuko said with an even firmer nod and another faint, fleeting but still noticeable smile.  He went back over to the map, trying to determine where the Avatar might go next, while absentmindedly giving Teiji a couple of wiggling fingers to tug on and play with.

 

That had gone _much_ better than Iroh could have hoped for… and all because Zuko had already figured out that Teiji would react poorly if he lost his temper.  Iroh smiled as he thought to himself that at this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if the entire ship took to calling the baby their good-luck talisman.

 

A short while later, Teiji began fussing, to which Zuko responded with first a soothing back rub, then a discreet check of his diaper, then quiet queries of whether baby wanted something to eat, and finally a frustrated look in Iroh’s direction.  “I can’t figure out what he wants!”

 

“Given his young age and the time of day, what he most likely wants is a nap,” Iroh said equably as he moved a final pai sho tile to win his latest game, then got up from the table to hold his arms out for Teiji.  “Let me take him; I spent some time last night clearing my cabin and putting breakables away with just this purpose in mind.  He and I can nap together, while you get on with commanding the ship.”

 

Zuko willingly handed over Teiji and the baby sling, and soon afterwards Iroh was showing his cabin to his first grandson.  “I suppose technically, the correct term is great-nephew,” he mused aloud as he settled back in his comfiest chair, with a still fussy Teiji draped over his chest and ample stomach.  “But though I say it rarely, I’ve come to regard Zuko as another son. And that makes you my grandson, by heart if not by blood.  Now settle down, Teiji; it’s time for your nap. Come, come, no fussing; I realize this is the first time you’ve been out of each other’s sight since we found you, but you’ll see your Papa Zuko again soon enough. Settle down, it will be all right… _Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_ …” Soothed by his rumbling singing voice (a trick he’d learned decades ago when Lu Ten was still an infant), Teiji soon fell fast asleep on him, allowing Iroh to have a short nap as well.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

In the early afternoon, the ship pulled into port at Laosing.  As protocol demanded, the ship’s captain was first to set foot ashore.  He’d done this plenty of times before over the last two-and-a-half years; not when they were merely resupplying unless he was required to personally sign for the goods, but every time they were chasing a lead on the Avatar. But this time, Zuko felt even more self-conscious about leaving the ship than usual.  He was absolutely positive that there were more natives staring at him this time than ever before; he did his damndest to ignore it but he could almost _feel_ their eyes on him.  There were always stares at the banished prince, at the hideous scar of dishonor… but this time there seemed to be just as many people staring not at his face, but at the baby sling tied to his chest.

 

Right up until fifteen minutes ago, Zuko had thought the plan was simple.  Send Uncle ashore with another crewman along for fetch-n-carry, to get the baby supplies they needed (and a set of toy soldiers, if any were available.) Send the ship’s doctor ashore to find a good wise-woman to talk to, and money for replacing the medical supplies they were low on.  Let the rest of the crew depart eight at a time in groups of four, to go shopping for themselves or whatever, with a reminder to keep their ears open about Avatar sightings (just in case; always just in case) and another reminder that their behavior in _this_ port would have bearing on whether they’d be granted shore leave in _other_ ports.  Meanwhile, he’d stay home with Teiji and take care of his new son until Uncle returned.   

 

Then he’d found out that his uncle had gotten up from his nap with every intention of _taking Teiji with him_ while shopping.  “Have you gone mad, or just senile?!” Zuko had demanded, storming up to snatch Teiji back out of Iroh’s arms and hold him protectively, not caring that nearly everyone else was on deck watching their exchange.  “Have you forgotten those villagers _tried to_ _kill him_ , because they thought his mismatched eyes made him a witch-child?   I won’t let you deliberately expose Teiji to danger!”

 

“Nephew, really!  As if I would ever deliberately endanger your son, who happens to be the closest I shall ever come to a grandchild!” Iroh had said with an offended look at the very thought.  “There will be no danger if no one notices his eyes; all they will see is a perfectly adorable baby boy!”

 

“And how were you planning to keep them from noticing his eyes?” Zuko had snarled, then had to draw back when Teiji began working his way up to a distressed wail. “Oh, sshh, Teiji, it’s okay,” he’d soothed while rubbing the baby’s back. “Ssshh, ssshhh, I’m not going to let any of those horrible peasants hurt you…”

 

And while he’d been quieting Teiji down again, his uncle had revealed his stupid plan; no one would be noticing the baby’s eyes because they’d be too busy staring or trying not to stare at _Zuko’s own face_ as he came with them on the shopping trip.  And then somehow his soothing words to Teiji had turned into an agreement with that stupid plan, or so Uncle had claimed while bustling about and organizing more men to come with the three of them for fetch-and-carry…

 

“ _I hate this_ , and _I hate you_ ,” Zuko had quietly growled at Iroh as, with Teiji in his sling, he started down the gangplank.  His uncle had looked very hurt for a moment, before covering it with another foolish grin as he started down the gangplank behind him.

 

So with no less than four crewmen with baskets along for fetch-and-carry duty—and to provide covering fire if the natives started howling about witch-children and they had to fight their way back to the ship; Zuko preferred to prepare for the worst—they went shopping together for teething rings and toys, and a replacement tile for Uncle’s stupid game.  Zuko knew he was going to hate every minute of that afternoon…

 

Except that as it turned out, he didn’t really hate it as much as he’d thought he would.  Plenty of people stared at him and Teiji, yes, but… some of the stares were… different than usual.  Not staring in hatred or revulsion at the ugly banished prince, just staring in surprise, sort-of.

 

One total stranger even gave him and Teiji a small _smile_ , just for a second. That was _freaky_.

 

Even without all the usual hatred and revulsion, he kept his guard up, making sure no one came close enough to get a good look at Teiji’s eyes.  Uncle asked around, and they were directed to a shop that sold teething toys and other things for children and was fairly close to the docks.

 

In a few minutes they had found the shop and Zuko was looking over a selection of teething toys, wondering which one Teiji would like best.  Uncle Iroh looked around the shop for only a moment, then told Zuko with a smile, “While you pick out toys for Teiji, I’m off to find a new lotus tile.  I’ll meet you back here soon!”

 

“What?  Wait!” Zuko said in almost a panic.  He knew from past experience that when Uncle started shopping, he usually bought a lot more than just the few items he’d originally started seeking, and could be gone for hours at a time!  “Don’t leave me without--”

 

“Oh, never fear, you’ll have Goro for fetch-and-carry,” his uncle said cheerily as he beckoned the other three crewmen with him.  “And to advise you on any questions you might have about suitable toys; Goro has two children of his own, after all!”

 

Zuko blinked; that was news to him.  But Joben had said there were plenty of fathers and even grandfathers aboard his ship…

 

Maybe Uncle had been right in his suggestion that Zuko should attend mail call even when he _knew_ he wouldn’t be getting any mail himself. He knew the crewmen had a habit of reading their letters from home aloud to each other, and surmised that was how his uncle knew so much about his crew’s private lives. Well, that was a thought for the next mail call; right now he was shopping for Teiji.

 

He looked over the selection of teething toys again, then shrugged and decided that since Teiji was here, he might as well let his son choose which one he wanted.  He took Teiji out of the sling and held him low over the table, saying, “Pick one, Teiji.”  Teiji babbled in delight as he reached down into the display… and came up with a teething toy in each tiny hand. Zuko huffed in mild annoyance, “I said one, Teiji, not two!  But I don’t suppose you know the difference between ‘one’ and ‘two’ yet…”

 

Goro made a soft sound that was probably a suppressed chuckle, though he sobered up fast when Zuko turned to glare at him. “May I make a suggestion, sir?” When Zuko stopped glaring and nodded, he continued, “Buy both of them, sir, and one more to hold in reserve.  If he’s anything like typical babies, he’ll probably lose one within the first week, and gnaw another clear through before the next time we make port.” When Zuko suspiciously glared at him again, he insisted, “May Agni bear witness, sir; my wife used to buy those things three or four at a time.”

 

So Zuko bought the teething toy in Teiji’s left hand, the one already in his mouth and another one shaped like a flat koala-sheep. Then he looked over the display of toys meant for playing with instead of teething on, and asked the proprietor, “Do you have a set of toy soldiers?”

 

Unfortunately, the toy shop didn’t have any toy soldier sets.  They sold a few individual toy soldiers, but only in Earth Kingdom uniforms, which wouldn’t be right at all for an adopted son of the Fire Nation.  But they had a few other toys that Teiji seemed interested in; a cloth stuffed panda, and a pair of brightly colored kokeshi dolls that were slightly larger than the one Uncle had given him.

 

Teiji also squealed happily and made grabby-hands gestures at an akabeko figure that looked more like a red cow-pig than a proper hippo-cow, but still had the funny bobbing head.  Zuko told the merchant they’d buy that too, having fond memories of the akabeko hippo-cow he’d had as a child, but Goro quietly advised him, “The boy’s still too young to handle it gently, sir; he’ll end up ripping the head right out of the socket.”  When faced with Zuko’s heated glare for criticizing his son, the sergeant hastily added, “But you could put it on a shelf out of his reach, and let the waves bob the head for him; he’ll still enjoy it that way!” After a moment’s thought, Zuko decided he could make room for it on the shelf below his writing supplies, and nodded acknowledgement of Goro’s suggestion before adding the akabeko to the small pile of items on the counter.

 

The shop also had a monkey drum; Teiji didn’t have the knack for twirling it back and forth to make the beads on strings swing about and hit the drum faces, but he shrieked with delight and clapped his hands when Zuko showed him how it was done and the familiar _pata-pata-pata_ sound bounced off the walls of the shop. “We’ll set that aside for when you’re a little older,” Zuko told his son with a smile as he added it to the small pile of items for purchase.  But when the shop proprietor tried to interest Zuko in a display of whistles shaped like various animals, the prince firmly waved them away; Teiji might be able to handle one of them now, but with his sensitive ears, Zuko had absolutely no desire to hear a toy whistle being blown for hours on end.

 

Since Uncle Iroh still hadn’t returned to the shop, after the toys were paid for and dropped into Goro’s hand-basket, Zuko put Teiji back in his sling and set out to find his uncle.  As they walked back to the docks, Zuko weighed his pride against his desperate need for more information on child-rearing, and finally broke down and told the sergeant, “I am entirely new to fatherhood, having been one for only two days now, and at this point, I do not even know what questions I should be asking.  Therefore, I will allow you and Lieutenant Jee to offer advice on rearing Teiji… even when I do not request the information of you first.”

 

“Thank you for the honor, sir.  I assure you that I will not abuse the privilege,” Goro said with a perfectly straight face.

 

A few minutes later, they ran into his uncle on the docks. Zuko asked him, “Did you find a replacement lily tile?”

 

“ _Lotus_ tile, nephew; lotus tile,” Uncle Iroh corrected him firmly. “You may think ‘a flower is a flower’, but I can assure you that there is a great difference between lilies and lotuses, and an even greater difference on the pai sho board. Most people think the lotus tile insignificant in pai sho, but it is essential for the unusual strategy that I employ.”

 

“Right, whatever,” as Zuko rolled his eyes; his uncle had tried many times to interest him in pai sho as well as tea, but he really could care less. “Did you find it or not?”

 

Uncle shook his head. “I've checked all the shops on this pier. Not a lotus tile in the entire marketplace!”

 

“Oh; too bad.  Well, maybe you can paint a new lotus design over the tooth marks,” he suggested.

 

“Perhaps… but in the meantime, this trip wasn’t wasted,” as Uncle beamed at him. “I always say that the only thing better than finding something you were looking for, is finding something you weren't looking for at a great bargain!” And he gestured to the three crewmen he’d taken with him for fetch-and-carry duty as they came walking up, heading back to the ship with seriously overloaded baskets that they could barely see over.

 

Zuko gaped at the sight, then slowly shook his head; he hadn’t seen such a staggering collection of useless junk in ages… well, not since Uncle’s last shopping frenzy, anyway.  One item in the third basket caught his eye, and he asked in disbelief, “You bought a tsungi horn?”

 

Uncle smiled wider.  “Of course; for Music Night on the ship!  And for you to use when your son has difficulty sleeping.  Do you remember the evenings when I played the tsungi horn for you in the palace nursery?”

 

“Um, barely… But I haven’t played the tsungi horn in years!” Not since his mother had— _disappeared_ ; that had put an end to the family gatherings for playing music or anything fun.

 

“But you were quite gifted at it, even when you were scarcely bigger than the horn! I’m sure it will all come back to you with just a little practice.  And I also bought a few things for Teiji; a set of puppets for entertaining him, a cloth platypus-bear and rabbaroo, a wind-up walking ostrich-horse, a rolling tiger-dillo ball…”

 

“At this rate, I’m going to need a separate sea chest just to hold Teiji’s toys,” Zuko grumbled, rolling his eyes again.  And followed it up with a wry smile-grimace when his uncle informed him that he’d bought a small sea chest too, for just that purpose.  Then he felt compelled to ask, “Did you find any toy soldier sets?”

 

“Not yet,” Iroh admitted, “but there are still a few places I haven’t shopped in yet!” and with that, he nearly dragged Zuko and Teiji with him towards the ships pulled into port that had merchant signs next to them on the pier.  “Oh, this one looks promising!”

 

Zuko looked at the ship he was pointing at, noting the signs of past battle-damage haphazardly repaired and the look of the ship’s barker, and drew back with a scowl and a protective hand over Teiji, who was nearly asleep in his sling. “That one looks like a pirate ship, Uncle!”

 

But when they drew closer and Zuko heard the barker’s spiel of “Earth Nation! Fire Nation! Water Nation! So long as bargains are your inclination, you're welcome here!” he reconsidered. If the ship’s crew had regular dealings with the Fire Nation, then maybe they’d have a proper set of toy soldiers aboard… It was a slim chance, but when he voiced the thought aloud, his uncle was quick to agree with him that it was a chance worth taking.

 

He sent three crewmen back to the ship with his and Iroh’s purchases, but kept the best firebender of the lot with them, figuring that if it came to a fight, three trained firebenders could hold off the pirate crew long enough to escape without harming a hair on Teiji’s head.  They cautiously boarded the ship, and Uncle immediately started pawing through all the useless junk on display, looking for bargains. Zuko asked the pirate captain he found in the merchandise cabin if there were any toy soldier sets for sale, sighed resignedly when he was told they had none, and waited for his uncle to finish up so they could go back to their own ship.

 

But while Uncle was cooing over a stupid monkey statue and declaring it would look magnificent in the galley, Zuko overheard one of the pirates saying to the captain, “We lost the Water Tribe girl and the little bald monk she was traveling with.”

 

No way! Could it be…?  He stepped up and into their conversation, asking, “This monk; did he have an arrow on his head?”

 

.

_To be continued!_

 


	4. Frightened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: this chapter takes place during the episode “The Waterbending Scroll”, but the first paragraph also refers to a Fire Nation soldier that appeared very briefly in the earlier episode “Imprisoned.”

 

Crewman Hūn knew he wasn’t smart. Not because Prince Zuko had yelled at him and called him stupid lots of times, because Prince Zuko yelled at everyone. Hūn knew he wasn’t smart because people had called him all kinds of different words for stupid for most of his life, and even though he was full grown, he still had problems with reading and writing, multiplying numbers and remembering important history and stuff.  (But at least he wasn’t as stupid as his cousin Baju, who’d somehow gotten it into his head that any Earth Kingdom animal that had paws like hands, like hog-monkeys and gorilla-goats, could be earthbenders! Hūn at least knew that it took more than hands to be a bender.) 

 

Hūn knew he wasn’t real smart, but he knew enough to be able to work on a farm, like the one he’d grown up on. And after being drafted into the military three years ago, he’d eventually learned how to do his duties as a hull maintainer, and he knew how to take care of his armor and how to handle a spear, so he didn’t worry about the rest. Besides, he was smart enough to make good friends, like Li Mein and Tadao; they always helped him with the stuff he had trouble with, like writing letters home to his folks, and keeping track of his pay so he knew how much he could spend when he was in port.

 

Goro was his sergeant, and even though he was grouchy a lot, he knew how to tell Hūn what to do.  Just say exactly what needed to be done, and exactly how he wanted it done, and Hūn would happily do exactly as the sergeant said.  Clear and exact orders saved a lot of trouble, like that trouble aboard the troop carrier _Aoba_ that had ended up with the captain being knocked overboard, one of the boiler pipes rupturing, and Hūn being transferred to the _Wani_.

 

Goro’s orders today had been really easy: _Follow General Iroh around on the docks and carry whatever he tells you to carry_.  He had, and he hadn’t dropped anything the whole time, even that hard-to-balance tsungi horn!  Then he’d gone back to the _Wani_ with all the purchases, while Akio went with the prince, the new weird-eyed baby and the retired general to one more ship.

 

Hūn had followed Goro and Cheung with their baskets of purchases straight to the royals’ quarters, and done exactly as the sergeant told him; he set his basket of stuff on General Iroh’s bed, very carefully separated out all the toys for the baby and put them in the brightly painted chest the general had bought, then left the rest of the bed for the general to deal with and took the basket back to the laundry room.  Then he’d gone back up on deck to resume his regular duties, since it wouldn’t be his turn to go and enjoy himself in the taverns for another four hours.

 

Hūn was carefully checking the railing on the port side for corrosion when all of a sudden Prince Zuko came charging up the gangplank with the baby in his arms, and General Iroh and Akio right behind him.  The prince was shouting orders even before his feet hit the deck, demanding that the crew all drop what they were doing and lower the river steamer and make sure it was fully stocked with fuel and assemble the duty roster for manning the steamer and somebody find Lieutenant Jee _Right Now_!

 

“I think he’s in the showers, sir!” Cheung piped up even as he disappeared from view, through the hatch and down the ladder that led to the berth where the river steamer was kept when it was hoisted out of the water.

 

“Well, get him out of there and on deck!” Prince Zuko shouted, even while .patting the fussing baby’s back to soothe him.

 

“Ahem.  Prince Zuko, would you really demand that your lieutenant appear in front of the crew in a state of undress?” General Iroh said with a raised bushy eyebrow.

 

Prince Zuko suddenly blushed as red as his armor and sputtered for a few moments.  “I-I didn’t mean—I—he—Look, we’ve got to hurry!  This could be the chance we’ve been waiting for, to capture the Avatar!  And who else can we trust to mind Teiji while we’re working with those pirates?”

 

Then Prince Zuko looked right at Hūn, and his eyes narrowed in a demanding glare.  “You! Hūn!  Do you think this baby is a witch-child?”

 

Hūn answered honestly, “If the General is sure he isn’t, then that’s good enough for me.” He knew General Iroh was real smart, always winning at pai sho and stuff, so he figured that the elder knew what he was talking about.

 

Prince Zuko nodded curtly in acknowledgment, then demanded further, “Have you ever handled a baby before?”

 

“Yessir.  I have three younger brothers, sir.”

 

“Good; you’ll do for now.” And with that, the prince took off the baby sling and handed it over to Hūn, baby and all.  “Listen carefully, Hūn!  You are to take this baby down to the showers and wait—that means wait outside, in the passageway, _not_ in the shower room!—You are going to wait right there until Lieutenant Jee gets dressed and accepts the baby from you,” as he secured the sling on Hūn and stepped back, to glare at him again. “Do you understand?  You wait there and you don’t let him out of your sight, you don’t even set him down, until Jee actually takes the baby from your arms!”

 

“Yes, sir!” Hūn saluted, then turned and headed for the shower room.

 

As he was going carefully down the ladders between decks, he heard a really loud ratcheting sound clanging throughout the ship; the ratcheting that came from the ship’s aft hatch being opened, so the river steamer could be cranked down the ramp into the water. Just as he reached the passageway leading to the shower room, Lieutenant Jee came bursting out with his hair wet and his uniform only partly on, shouting, “What the crawling Koh’s going on?” Without even looking in Hūn’s direction, he turned and started running for the aft, where all the noise was coming from, still stomping into his boots and fastening his tunic while shouting at nobody in particular, demanding to know what fool had decided to lower the aft main hatch without permission.

 

…Well, the prince had given him real clear and exact orders.  Hūn stopped next to the door to the shower room, then leaned against the wall and settled in to wait.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

When Jee got to the aft hatch, he found Prince Zuko back to his usual irritating self, shouting at a dozen crewmen to get the river steamer mission-ready as fast as possible.  Since General Iroh was closer and _not_ shouting, Jee approached him and asked, “What’s going on?  And where’s the baby?” A horrible thought hit him, and he added while stifling sudden flames around his fists, “Has he been kidnapped by more idiot peasants?!  Is the prince mounting a rescue?”

 

“Teiji is safely aboard, Lieutenant,” Iroh swiftly reassured him.  “Prince Zuko has already decided that he will remain in your care while he goes on this mission.”

 

“What mission?”

 

Iroh beamed at him, though the smile seemed fake somehow. “By sheer coincidence, we have stumbled across a new lead to the Avatar’s whereabouts! A ship full of pirates has already been searching for him and his Water Tribe companions since this morning, after the girl stole a waterbending scroll from them.  We believe they are nearby, having traveled up the river leading to the port.  We shall need a party to man the river steamer, if you wouldn’t mind…”

 

Jee nodded and turned to run for the bridge, where the duty rosters were kept.  Since nearly a quarter of the crew was on shore leave at the moment, he’d have to fill the holes in the river steamer’s roster with personnel from other watches. He called over his shoulders as he started moving, “Have whoever’s got the baby right now take him straight to my quarters and wait for me there!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Fifteen minutes later, Kunio grumbled he strode rapidly through the passageways with a short list in his hand, tracking down the crew members that Lieutenant Jee had said would be manning the river steamer.  He grumbled because first he had drawn short straw and been put in the last party to take shore leave today instead of the first, and _now_ he hadn’t been selected for crewing the river steamer for the latest mission, when this one promised some real action!  Kunio hadn’t had the opportunity to beat up on anybody in weeks, and those pirates that he’d heard were somehow involved in this mission would have been perfect targets for some violence.  But noooo, he had to stay here and keep the starboard watch while other people got to go have some fun…

 

Next-to-last on his list of crew members to track down was Hūn, and someone said they’d seen him heading towards the showers.  Kunio grinned, hoping for the chance to order the idiot out of the shower and to the steamer while still half-dressed or even naked! Sergeant Goro had outright ordered him to keep his distance from Hūn after the last time he’d tried to have some fun with him, but now he had official orders from the lieutenant…

 

But to Kunio’s disappointment, Hūn was just standing there in the passageway by the shower room, fully clothed, facing aft and leaning against the wall. “Hey, Stupid!” he shouted at Hūn’s back. “Get moving!  Lieutenant Jee wants you on the river steamer, right now!”

 

Hūn started to turn towards him, with the usual confused expression on his face. “But I--”

 

“Move it!” Kunio barked before Hūn could finish whatever idiotic thing he’d been about to say. “Do you want to keep the prince waiting?” And with that he turned and headed back to find the last person on the lieutenant’s list.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Well, if both Lieutenant Jee and Prince Zuko wanted him to go to the steamer… Hūn shrugged, then patted the bundle on his chest; the baby had dozed off in his sling while they’d been waiting in the passageway, but started to wake up when Kunio had shouted at him. “It’s okay, baby; go back to sleep.” Then, quietly singing an old farming song his mama had sung to him as a child, he headed for the river steamer’s berth.

 

The crew quarters were right along the way to the river steamer.  Hun decided to stop by his bunk and get his thick winter cloak out of the sea chest; he draped it over the baby’s sling, so he wouldn’t be as bothered by loud noises and bright lights, and could keep napping until Lieutenant Jee came to take him.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Soon the sun was setting as the river steamer left the port far behind them, traveling up the river Gwan in search of the Avatar. Not that Zuko had told the pirates the true identities of their scroll thieves; he’d merely said they were wanted by the Fire Nation as well, and offered a temporary joining of forces until they were found.

 

Standing next to the pirate captain on the deck of the sailing ship, Zuko silently admitted to himself that the pirates certainly knew their watercraft.  They were traveling upriver, which his steamer had been made for doing easily, but the pirates’ ship was actually keeping pace with them!  That took some impressive work with the sails and rigging.

 

This was it!  He could feel it, almost _taste_ it; the Avatar was almost within his grasp!  And this time he wouldn’t let that airbending brat trick him or get away; this time he’d personally escort him in chains straight to the holding cell, and make damn sure the Avatar was secured in there until they reached the Fire Nation again!  By this time tomorrow, he’d really be _going home_!

 

The pirate captain peered at the forested riverbanks they were passing and growled, “Shouldn’t we stop to search the woods?”

 

Zuko said confidently, “We don’t need to stop.  They stole a waterbending scroll, right?” And when the pirate captain muttered assent, he continued, “Then they’ll be on the water.”

 

Two seconds later, Zuko suddenly heard an odd sound coming from his boat. And when he figured out what he’d just heard, his confidence was abruptly and utterly shattered into tiny disordered pieces.

 

The pirate captain said querulously, “Did I just hear a—hey, what’re you doing?” But Zuko ignored him as he jumped onto the wooden ship’s railing.  He leaped from the railing for a sail boom overhead, grabbed it, then swung out from there to flip and make a two-point landing aboard the deck of the riverboat. 

 

Zuko threw open the door to the cabin and bolted inside, to confront the cluster of men standing in the aft of the cabin and demand with his heart in his throat, “The baby?!”

 

The cluster parted to reveal his uncle, holding a crying Teiji and looking more flustered than he’d ever seen the old man before, sputtering, “We had no idea until he woke up and started—Hūn has been carrying him under his cloak all this time!”

 

Since Hūn wasn’t carrying the baby now, Zuko felt free to grab the crewman by his tunic front, spin and slam him against the nearest bulkhead, snarling, “You brought a _baby_ on a _dangerous mission_?!  Those are _pirates_ out there!  And we’re hunting _the Avatar_!  Babies don’t belong on dangerous missions, you idiot!  _Why didn’t you obey my orders_?!”

 

“I did obey your orders, sir!” Hūn protested, looking ready to burst into tears from sheer terror and misery.  “I went where you told me to and I never set the baby down, not even once!  But the lieutenant never took the baby from my arms, and then I was told you and he both wanted me aboard here!”

 

Zuko stared at him, then relaxed his grip and let the crewman go, pushing him aside so he faced the bulkhead.  Then he rested his forehead against the cool metal for a few moments, before beginning to rhythmically bang his head against it with a dull _clong. Clong. Clong_ …  Just then, it was the only appropriate thing to do.

 

For several long seconds, the only sounds filling the cabin were of Zuko banging his head against the wall and the baby’s crying, despite Iroh’s quiet attempts to sooth him.  The cabin air, in the meantime, was slowly filling with the unmistakable smell of human urine and poop, unquestionably coming from Teiji’s hindquarters.  Finally Zuko stopped abusing his forehead and turned around, his shoulders slumped and features filled with resignation.  He wordlessly held his arms out, and Iroh swiftly passed Teiji over to him, along with a rueful, “We’ll have to improvise a diaper for him again.”

 

Zuko sighed as he propped Teiji against his shoulder, and started pointing to crewman without even looking at them. “You, strip off your undertunic. You, get fresh water for cleaning up. And you, make a pad to set him on for changing.  Ssshhh, sshhh, Teiji, stop fussing; we’ll get you cleaned up soon…”

 

The orders were certainly unusual, but the crewmen he’d pointed to started scrambling to obey. The helmsman asked over his shoulder, “Your orders, sir?” while keeping them on a course upriver.

 

Zuko opened his mouth to order them to reverse course and head back to the Wani, when suddenly they all heard the pirate captain shouting at their boat, “Ahoy, you Fire Nation folk!  You’re starting to fall behind; have you decided to stop hunting thieves in favor of minding babies?”  From the gleeful note in the captain’s voice, he was hardly upset by the prospect.

 

If they went back to the _Wani_ , the pirates would continue searching without them—and might well find the Avatar and capture him by surprise, all for themselves!  Zuko snapped to the helmsman, “Increase speed until we’re matching their new pace, and maintain parallel heading!”

 

Uncle and the crew all stared at him in dismayed silence, so he growled at them all, “We are **_not_** going to pass up this opportunity to capture the Avatar—or let the credit go to those pirates!”

 

His uncle slowly nodded, looking very unhappy.  “Even if we end the mission now, the pirates will not give up their quest for the scroll and their revenge against the waterbending girl.  But… bringing an innocent babe into battle…”

 

After adjusting the engine to increase their speed slightly, the helmsman said almost offhandedly, “Maybe that’s what the spirit wants, sirs; maybe he has to be nearby for it to work.”

 

Zuko turned and stared at the helmsman. “For _what_ to work? And _what_ spirit?  You’ve been _told_ that Teiji is _not_ a witch-child!”

 

The helmsman shrugged again, glancing over his shoulder at him.  “Maybe he isn’t, sir, but I can’t help thinking that there’s a spirit out there that’s keeping an eye on him, and that spirit wants to thank you for adopting him by helping out in our mission.” He faced forward again as he went on, “I could be wrong, but… Think about it, sir; according to what you and Lieutenant Jee said on the bridge, the surprise of having a baby aboard all of a sudden made him forget to tell you about the Avatar sighting.  Which turned out to be a _good_ thing that time, because if you’d sent us after him then, we would have run right into Commander Zhao at the blockade. And after you beat him in the Agni Kai and showed him as being dishonorable too, he’ll take his revenge against you any way he can.  Instead of catching the Avatar then, you’d have caught a boatload of trouble from him!”

 

Keeping his eyes focused on the river he was steering them through, the helmsman continued, “Now this time, the only reason we made port at Laosing at all is because you needed to buy supplies for the baby.  And as I understand it, the only reason you even went aboard that pirate ship was to see if they had a replacement for the general’s lotus tile, the one that Teiji chewed up for a teething toy!  So it was Teiji’s teething that led to you finding a lead on the Avatar again. Sir, there are coincidences, and then there are things that are just too fantastic to be a coincidence!  It sure seems to me like _somebody_ wants to give you another and even better shot at capturing the Avatar…”

 

Zuko shot his uncle a questioning look.  They’d told no one about the _kirin_ -spirit that Iroh said he’d seen where they’d found the baby, with his secret ability to see spirits; the kirin that had somehow indicated Teiji was now Zuko’s to raise.  Was that kirin-spirit still following them around, and influencing events somehow to help Zuko in his quest? Uncle Iroh gave him a subtle shrug, indicating he had no idea whether the helmsman was right or not. 

 

Just as the helmsman finished talking, they all heard the screech of a messenger hawk, and moments later saw it landing on the railing of the boat; Zuko recognized it as the Wani’s own hawk.  Since Zuko had his arms full, Iroh stepped outside the cabin to retrieve the message from Jee, and brought it inside for him to read: _Baby is not in my cabin, your cabin, general’s cabin or anywhere else aboard ship. Have sent divers down to check the harbor and search parties out to scour the docks; no sign of him yet_. 

 

 “Poor Jee must be tearing his hair out right now,” Iroh said with a grimace of sympathy. “We must send a return message immediately to reassure him.”

 

“You’ll have to handle that, and Teiji for the next few hours,” Zuko said grimly, glancing out the porthole at the pirate ship.  “I need to deal with the pirate captain and crew.”

 

It was harder than he’d thought it would be, to hand the baby back over to his uncle; Teiji was scrabbling with tiny fingers for a grip on his armor, wanting to stay with him, and his own arms didn’t seem to want to let go.  But Iroh carefully gathered the baby into his embrace, and began cooing reassuringly to the still upset child as the crew finished improvising the supplies needed for a diaper change.  

 

Zuko ordered them all, “Keep Teiji out of sight, and quiet if you can… and I want two crewmen guarding him at all times, understand?  No pirate is to set foot on this boat or even catch sight of Teiji!” He glared at everyone for emphasis as he continued, “If any of them get too near, they get exactly _one_ warning fireball; if they don’t turn and run in _the very next instant_ , you are authorized to use _deadly force_!”

 

Iroh and a few of the crewmen looked surprised when he said that; it was the first time Zuko had _**ever**_ authorized using deadly force on a mission.  But other crewmen, like Akio, gave nods of grim approval; they knew what atrocities pirates were capable of, and he’d overheard a few of his men grumbling about working with such criminal scum at all.  Zuko thought for a moment about emphasizing that he wanted them to fire a _warning_ before aiming to kill, then decided it was unnecessary; the ones who’d grumbled about working with pirates were also the crewmen who held their own honor in high regard.

 

He went back out, swiftly climbed to the cabin roof and launched himself in a flying leap, caught the boom of the pirate ship’s main sail and swung from there onto the wooden deck.  He landed almost right where he’d been standing before, and gave the pirate captain a challenging glare as he stood tall—which was still several inches shorter than the other man, dammit.

 

The pirate captain was smirking, instead of impressed by his doing such acrobatic stunts while wearing armor, and asked in a deliberately casual drawl, “So what’s a Fire Nation captain doing with a baby aboard his ship?”

 

“That’s _none of your business_ ,” Zuko hissed in response.  He almost snarled about the other man’s impertinence in asking such questions of Fire Nation royalty, but restrained himself.  He’d introduced himself as just ‘Captain Zuko’ earlier, not ‘Prince Zuko’; pirates were greedy above all else, and well known for kidnapping people in raids.  Most of their victims were sold into slavery, but the wealthier ones were held hostage for exorbitant amounts of ransom… though even if the ransom was paid, they were apt to be returned horribly abused if alive at all. Zuko was sure that even his ragtag bunch of misfits could rally long enough to defeat such a small pirate crew if they discovered his royal status and tried taking him hostage, but he’d rather avoid the battle altogether; it would only get in the way of his mission to capture the Avatar. 

 

But the captain only smirked even more instead of shutting up. “Let me guess; you believed some bar wench when she told you the kid was yours?  Those girls spread their legs for anyone with enough coin; you can never--”

 

He would **_not_** allow anyone to insult Teiji’s mother, a mother who’d died trying to save her child! Zuko whipped a hand up and shot a blast of fire right past the main sail, snarling, “Let me guess; you want to see how fast your ship can go after the sails are _burned off_?!”

 

The captain drew back a pace in alarm. “No need for that, lad!  I was just making conversation, is all.”

 

“Choose another topic,” Zuko growled. “Or better yet, choose silence!  Do you want the thieves to hear us coming?” The pirate captain wisely chose silence, and they resumed scanning the riverbanks for signs of the Avatar’s party.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Frightened blue eyes stared into gleaming golden eyes, as a rasping voice said with dark amusement, “I’ll save you from the pirates.”

 

Katara couldn’t decide who she hated most, right at that moment:  The pirates for chasing her, Zuko for being with them and capturing her, or herself for sneaking away from camp without telling anybody so she could practice with the waterbending scroll.  If she hadn’t done such a stupid, selfish thing, then she wouldn’t have gotten captured while Aang and Sokka were still asleep and way out of shouting range! 

 

Soon the list of Katara’s personal hates settled with Zuko right on top, when she found out that Zuko’s idea of ‘saving her from the pirates’ was tying her to a small tree on the riverbank, right in front of them.  She could _feel_ the pirates’ eyes on her, leering at her; making her feel like she needed a bath with an hour of hard scrubbing. 

 

Zuko stood in front of her with his arms crossed, trying to look all important and I’m-in-charge-here, and demanded she tell him where her friend was.  But she could handle his attitude a lot easier than the pirates’ leers; she said defiantly, “Go jump in the river!”

 

He glared at her, and then visibly decided to change tactics.  His voice softened and he reached a hand out to her imploringly as he said, “Try to understand.  I need to capture him to restore something I’ve lost; my honor.” As he spoke, he began walking around the tree she was tied to.  From behind her, he said, “Perhaps in exchange, I can restore something you’ve lost.” And then his hands encircled her from behind, holding something; she looked down and saw

 

“My mother’s necklace!”

 

The necklace, all she had left of her mother!  She had to have it back… she…

 

Zuko was now _wayyyyy_ on top of her hate list.  Right that moment, if her hands were free she would have happily _drowned_ the rotten spider-snake.  “How did you get that?!” she demanded.

 

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said tauntingly as he turned away, taking the necklace with him. Then he faced her and demanded again, “Tell me where he is!”

 

“ ** _No_**!” She glared at him, trying to pour into that one glare just how much she _hated_ him now, even more than the Fire Nation soldier that had murdered her mother.  At least that monster hadn’t tried to pretend he was better than her!

 

Then the pirate captain stepped forward, growling, “Enough of this necklace garbage!  You promised us the scroll!”

 

And Zuko pulled the scroll from behind his back and held it up in one hand, asking in a nasty voice, “I wonder how much this is worth?” Then he held his other hand right under it and the hand sprouted flames; he was going to _burn the scroll_!  And as the pirates gasped and shouted in protest, he gloated, “A lot, apparently.” Then his voice turned hard as he demanded, “Now you help me find what I want, you'll get this back and everyone goes home happy. Search the woods for the boy and meet back here!”

 

The pirate captain muttered sullen agreement, and he and his men dispersed into the woods.  Zuko sent four of his men out to search the woods as well, while two others stayed with him, guarding Katara and their boat.

 

After a minute or two of hard silence in which Katara tried to kill the rotten spider-snake with her eyes alone, and the Fire Nation prince arrogantly ignored her, a stout elderly man who’d been hanging back while Zuko had been talking came forward with a pleasant smile.  “While we’re all waiting, would you care for some tea, young miss?”

 

Zuko rolled his eyes and groaned, “Uncle, she’s not our guest, she’s a _prisoner_!”

 

“Which is no reason not to treat her civilly,” the old man retorted, still wearing that pleasant smile. “Do you prefer ginseng or jasmine tea, miss?  And I believe we have some lychee tea in the boat stores as well…”

 

Just then, Katara heard a sound she immediately recognized, but hadn’t expected to have heard coming from a _Fire Nation_ vessel: a crying baby.

 

Zuko and the man he’d called ‘Uncle’ clearly heard it too; they exchanged quick, tense glances before Zuko abruptly started towards his boat—then just as abruptly turned back to look at Katara, his posture torn with indecision. His uncle muttered, “I’ll see to him,” before moving with surprising swiftness for such a poly-poly old greybeard, trotting up the boat’s short gangplank and vanishing inside the cabin.

 

After years of helping Gran-Gran take care of their village’s children, Katara could interpret baby sounds as well as any mother could. That baby was wailing not in hunger or from discomfort caused by a wet bottom, but in outright fear and distress.  She glared as Zuko as she hissed, “Another prisoner?  Did you ‘save the baby from the pirates’, too?”

 

“Shut up!” Zuko snarled over his shoulder at her as he faced the boat.  “And not that it’s any of your business, but we saved him from superstitious peasants like _you_ , before they could kill him!”

 

Peasants killing a _baby_?  Katara considered the possibility for exactly one second before she declared, “That’s a load of arctic hippo dung!”

 

“I said _shut up_!” Zuko snarled again, still facing the boat and seeming to lean towards the baby’s cries.

 

She demanded, “What did you do to that baby’s _family_? Did you kill his parents on one of your raids?!  You’re all _monsters_ ; murdering, _evil_ \--”

 

Zuko abruptly spun around, his already ugly features even uglier with rage.  Smoke poured out from between clenched teeth as he hissed, “That’s **_it_** ; I’m through being nice to you!” And then he reached for her and—

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Aboard the boat, Iroh accepted a wailing Teiji from Jiro’s arms as the helmsman reported desperately, “I’m sorry, General, I thought he was sleeping just fine, but the next thing I knew he was crying and screaming fit to deafen Agni! I don’t know what—his diaper isn’t wet or full of poop again; what’s wrong with him?”

 

Taozu, the firebender currently assigned to guarding Teiji, suggested, “Maybe he got a tummy-ache after all, from the field rations we mashed up for his dinner.  Or maybe he’s actually hungry again?”

 

Teiji refused another rice ball, so he wasn’t hungry.  Iroh wondered if he had that ‘colic’ that he’d heard some babies are afflicted with; he thought it had something to do with constant tummy-aches, but Lu Ten had never had a problem with it.  He rubbed Teiji’s back and belly with a carefully heated palm, hoping to soothe any aches he might have, and while the outright screaming diminished, the baby just would not stop crying.  Blast it, why hadn’t they waited at the ship for the doctor to return—or better yet, actually made _sure_ he was safely in Jee’s care before departing?

 

But berating himself and Zuko for not instantly becoming perfect parents after the joy and burden had been thrust on them so abruptly, wasn’t helping Teiji right now.  Iroh finally poked his head out of the river boat’s cabin, took a good look around to be sure no pirates were anywhere in sight, then carried the crying baby over to his new father, with Taozu trailing after him.

 

Zuko demanded as he drew near, “Uncle, what are you doing?! I told you to keep him out of sight!”

 

“Out of sight of the pirates,” Iroh countered, “and they’re nowhere nearby right now. But what have you done to the waterbending girl?” as he frowned heavily at the sight of her.  Her appearance had changed since he’d gone aboard the boat, and not for the better:

 

Now she had a gag over her mouth, made from a strip of cloth that appeared to have been torn from the hem of her own skirt. Over the gag, her eyes glared at Zuko with such pure _fury_ that Iroh wouldn’t have been surprised if his proud phoenix plume had spontaneously combusted.

 

“All I did was shut her up, when she wouldn’t shut up on her own!” Zuko said defensively, his voice pitched to carry over Teiji’s cries as he reached out to take the baby from Iroh’s arms.

 

But Iroh took a step backwards, keeping Teiji for the moment and still frowning.  “And you consider that civil treatment?”

 

“Civil?! I’ve been treating her civilly since the moment we laid eyes on her!” Zuko insisted, then began counting off on his fingers. “First, I kept her out of the pirates’ hands, and do you know what they wanted to do to her for stealing from them?! I overheard plenty while I was aboard their ship, including the crew’s plans for her! First they’d chain her to the deck and _rape_ her, every last one of them getting a turn with her, and then they’d--” Abruptly he slapped a hand over his own mouth, his good eye wide with dismay as he stared at Teiji.

 

“I don’t think he’s listening to you at the moment,” Iroh said wryly over the noise of the still wailing infant.  “But we must mind our words around him from now on.”

 

Zuko nodded agreement, then continued, “Anyway, I also tied her up with the good linen rope, instead of the twine we have a lot more of aboard, because that would have cut into her skin when she struggled.  And she has information that could cut our search for the Avatar even shorter, but have I tried to torture it out of her?  No! I even tried to _bargain_ with her for it; you can’t get more civil than that!  But she still has the _nerve_ to call us monsters and evil!” He glared over his shoulder at the girl as he finished, “I’m tempted to give her back to the pirates after all.  What do you think, peasant? Would you prefer to be out of the hands of these ‘evil monsters’—and in _their_ hands instead?”

 

Her eyes wide with horror over the gag, the girl frantically shook her head.  Iroh felt a moment of pity for her; the poor girl clearly had no idea of how much trouble she’d narrowly avoided, until hearing Zuko’s rant just now.

 

“Good.  Now give him to me,” as Zuko faced forward and reached for Teiji again, and this time Iroh let him take the crying baby into his arms.  Teiji flung his tiny arms around Zuko’s neck, but still didn’t stop crying, even as Zuko began rocking back and forth on his heels to soothe him.  “Sshhh, ssshhh, little boy; what’s the matter?”

 

“His diaper doesn’t need changing, and he isn’t hungry; we can’t tell if he has a tummy-ache, but even if he does, we have nothing in the emergency medical kit for treating him,” Iroh said rather helplessly.

 

Zuko began walking back and forth on the riverbank with Teiji in his arms, rubbing his back and murmuring to him. “Does your tummy hurt, Teiji? Is that the problem?” After a short pause, he asked quietly, “Or did you have a bad dream?  Nightmares can be really scary…”  Iroh blinked as he overheard that, and wondered why the thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier. 

 

“That’s what happened; you had a bad dream. Ssshhh, sshhh, it’s okay, the bad dream is over now… It’s understandable that you’re having bad dreams, considering what you’ve been through.  A little boy, left all alone in the woods after your mama died…”

 

And finally, a single word emerged from Teiji’s incoherent wails, the first clear word they’d ever heard him say, and one that broke Iroh’s heart when he heard it: “Mama!  _Mama_!  _Maamaaa_!”

 

“Sh-she’s not coming, Teiji,” Zuko managed, his voice choked.  “I’m so sorry; she’s not coming…”

 

Iroh felt tears stinging at his eyes, and pulled a kerchief out of his sleeve to dab at them.  From the quiet sniffles he heard behind him, at least one of the men was similarly affected.

 

“I can’t give you your mother back,” Zuko went on, his voice thick with unshed tears.  “If I could, I would, because I know just how you’re feeling; I lost my mother too. And I still miss her, so much…” After a quiet sniffle and hard swallow of his own, he said softly, “But you just go ahead and cry, as much as you need to.  Father always called me weak and punished me for it, but it’s okay for you to cry; you’re just a little baby still.  I’ll never punish you for crying, for missing her… I’ll never hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you either.  I promise, Teiji.”

 

Iroh had the definite feeling that Zuko was no longer aware of everyone else around him, as he went on speaking softly to his newfound son.  “And someday, after we go home… there’s a garden with a turtle-duck pond; it’s a beautiful, quiet place, my mom’s favorite spot in the whole palace.  She and I used to sit by the pond together, and feed the turtle-ducks.  Sometimes we’d even go out there when it rained, and sit in the gazebo, and see if we could toss the bread from there all the way out to the pond for the turtle-ducks.  And after she… after she was gone, I sneaked into her room and got one of her hair combs, and I took it out to the garden, and I hid it deep in the branches of a bush by the pond where we used to sit together.  I made it a sort-of secret shrine to her.  After we go home to the palace, I’ll show it to you, and we’ll make it a shrine to _both_ our mothers.  And whenever you miss your mama, we’ll go out there and pray to her… pray to them together.”

 

Just for a moment, Iroh wished with all his heart that he could travel backwards in time over six years, grab his younger self by the scruff of the neck, and order him to climb out of his grieving depression long enough to accept young Zuko’s shy invitation to have a picnic in that garden, all those years ago. 

 

Then Zuko began crooning “Leaves from the Vine” to Teiji, over and over as he paced on the riverbank with him.  After a few more minutes of sobbing, Teiji’s crying finally subsided to little tired sniffles.  Meanwhile, Iroh quietly made his way over to the waterbending girl and untied her gag, tucking the strips of fabric into the tops of her short boots so she could attempt to sew them back on later.  The girl nodded her gratitude to Iroh but kept quiet, her eyes focused on Zuko as he sang the lullaby to Teiji.  She seemed both perplexed and dismayed, as if the image of father and son together was as strange and _wrong_ to her as a pink-and-purple striped platypus-bear stomping through her frozen village.

 

After Teiji stopped crying and while Zuko kept crooning to him, the girl finally said in a near-whisper, “You really love him, don’t you? Like he’s really your son.”

 

Zuko stopped singing and whirled in his tracks to stare at her as she spoke, as if he’d forgotten she was even there, and shifted to shield Teiji from her view—as if his child was in danger from a young teenaged girl currently tied to a tree, Iroh thought with some amusement.  After a second or two of tense silence, Zuko snapped sarcastically, “Is the idea of _adoption_ such a strange concept to you, waterbender?”

 

“No, I know what adoption is!  But I don’t… I mean, you…” the girl seemed to flounder for a few moments, as if not knowing what exactly she wanted to ask, and then finally said, “Why did you bring a baby with you while trying to capture the Avatar?  Didn’t you think it would be dangerous?”

 

Even in the moonlight, it was easy to see Zuko’s flush of acute embarrassment.  He snapped, “There was a miscommunication!” He glared over at Hūn, who was standing guard nearby, as he continued, “He’s _supposed_ to be safely aboard the ship, with my lieutenant minding him for me until we get back!”

 

Hūn cringed in guilty embarrassment, while Iroh said firmly, “That error in communication will never happen again, I assure you, miss… er, I don’t believe you’ve ever introduced yourself?”

 

After only a moment’s hesitation, she responded, “My name’s Katara. Uh, and you are?”

 

“Former General Iroh, uncle to Prince Zuko,” as he inclined his head to her.  He judged that a bow would be inappropriate, not because she was a peasant but because she was currently unable to bow back.  “And the child’s name is Teiji.”

 

“Um, I’d say ‘pleased to meet you’, but…” her voice trailed off into a few moments of awkward silence that spread throughout the group, before she determinedly began again. “There’s something else I don’t understand.  You said you had to _rescue_ him; why would anyone try to kill an innocent baby?”

 

“Because they feared him, for the way he is different from most babies,” Iroh said sigh a heavy sigh.  “They believed him to be a witch-child… though I can assure you he is not!”

 

“Superstitious peasants, afraid of anything that they don’t understand,” Zuko grumbled as he turned towards the boat.  “You keep an eye on her for a while, Uncle; I’m going to put Teiji back to bed.”

 

After Zuko disappeared with Teiji into the boat’s cabin, the girl—Katara—turned to Iroh and asked curiously, “You said the baby’s different; how so?  The blanket you had around him was covering his legs; does he have birds’ feet instead of regular feet?  Or are they just on backwards?  I heard a story once about a witch like that…”

 

“No, his feet are quite normal.  As are his hands; he has fingers instead of claws or hooves, and the normal set of five on each hand,” Iroh assured her.  “He looks quite normal at first glance… until you look into his eyes.  One is brown, but the other is blue.”

 

She blinked at him.  “That’s all?”

 

“That’s all.  Other than his eyes, he’s like any other baby.  And normally a quite cheerful one; it’s ama--”

 

“Are you serious?” she interrupted him, her outrage obvious in her expression and flashing blue eyes. “Somebody was willing to _kill an innocent baby_ , just because he has eyes like a polar-dog?”

 

“A what?  A polar-dog?” It was Iroh’s turn to blink at her in surprise.  “They normally have eyes with mismatched colors?”

 

“Well, it’s not exactly normal for them, but it’s not really rare either.  Most polar-dogs have either brown eyes or blue eyes, but every once in a while you get one pup from a litter that has one blue eye and one brown eye. I’ve seen two like that myself, and my Gran-Gran knew a man who was real proud of having twin polar-dogs with different eyes; one with the blue eye on the left, and the other with the blue on the right. Some folks think that the mismatched eyes are a sign that they’re lucky, but I’ve never noticed that they are.  And the other polar-dogs don’t treat them any differently, no matter what color their eyes are.”

 

Crewman Li Mein, also standing guard nearby, gave a derisive chuckle as he muttered, “How about that; those Earth Kingdom peasants weren’t even as smart as polar-dogs!”

 

Katara gave Li Mein a glare, apparently choosing to be offended on the peasants’ behalf, but had no words to argue with his opinion.  Instead she turned back to Iroh and asked curiously, “Can I get a look at his eyes, the next time you bring him out?”

 

Iroh gave her a mild frown of chastisement. “I highly doubt my nephew will put his son on display for you, as a subject of curiosity.  He himself dislikes being stared at for his mismatched eyes.”

 

Katara gave a slightly guilty blush at her faux pas, and said no more.  Nor did she say anything when Zuko returned from the boat some time later, after putting Teiji back to bed, and ordered the guards changed so two other crewmen could nap for a few hours.  She said nothing for several more hours, until shortly after dawn when the pirates returned with more captives.

 

“Nice work,” Zuko said almost grudgingly, while Iroh stared in barely-disguised astonishment at the sight of the Avatar and his other Water Tribe companion tied up with rope and being marched onto the riverbank by the pirates.  He’d expected the Water Tribe boy to be easily overwhelmed, but the Avatar as well?! 

 

While they’d been getting the river steamer ready for the mission, Zuko had confided in Iroh the plan he’d already come up with, and Iroh had been forced to admire its practical and rather ruthless efficiency. After having lost to the airbender both at the South Pole and on Kyoshi Island, Zuko would no longer underestimate the Avatar’s ability to wreak havoc and destruction, no matter how childlike his appearance or behavior. Therefore, the pirates would serve as their catapult fodder; the seafaring criminals would try to capture the airbender, not knowing him for what he was until the battle triggered the Avatar State.  Then after the destruction stopped and the pirates were scattered to the four winds, when the young boy came down from the Avatar State and was momentarily exhausted as they’d seen happen before, their soldiers would swoop in and subdue him before he could recover.

 

But to see the Avatar now, bound by mere ropes just like any non-bending child… was it a ruse to lull them all into a sense of false security, as he’d done before at the South Pole?  If so, the boy was about to regret it. Zuko had brought along not just manacles but an iron mask to cover his mouth, and several hundred feet of stout iron chain; he was prepared to wrap the airbender up from head to toe as soon as they laid hands on him.

 

When she saw her friend and her brother in captivity, Katara called out to them with clear regret in her voice, “Aang, this is all my fault!”

 

The Avatar called back, “No, Katara, it isn’t!”

 

Iroh felt almost compelled to point out, “Yeah, it kind-of is.” Katara shot him a sidelong glare to show how little she appreciated his agreeing with her just then.  (He sighed internally and thought once again that there was just no pleasing the young in their teenage years.)

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Aboard the river steamer, it was Hūn and Taozu’s turn to mind the baby.  He’d woken up a little while ago, but not crying this time.  They had mashed up some more field rations for his breakfast, and after breakfast it was time for another diaper change, using more of the field blanket they’d torn up for diapers last night. Taozu cocked his head to listen while setting the baby down on the changing pad they’d improvised, and said, “It sounds like one of the search parties is back.  Take a look out there and tell me what’s going on, okay?”

 

Hūn went to the porthole and looked out, and reported, “The pirates are back.  And they have the Avatar!”

 

“They _what_?” Taozu left the baby for a moment and scrambled to look out the porthole too.  “Well, roll me in cinders; they really caught him!  Without even a scratch on any of them, near as I can tell; how’d they manage that?”  Then he turned back around with some alarm, saying, “Hey, kid, stay out of that; you could get hurt!  Hūn, keep me posted on what’s happening!”

 

So Hūn kept looking out the porthole and listening, and reported on what he heard and saw : Prince Zuko pointing to the Avatar, and demanding he be turned over to them.  The pirate captain shouting back at the prince about the scroll.  And then all the pirates turning to look at the Water Tribe boy as he said something… Then the pirates turning to go back to their ship, still holding onto the Avatar.  Which made Prince Zuko really mad, and then all their men were charging the pirates, and they started fighting…

 

Things ashore got really confusing after that.  There was smoke everywhere, and shouting and steel clashing and fireballs flying while their crew fought the pirates, and Taozu got all excited and wanted to go out and help their side, but fretted that they’d been ordered to stay with the baby and keep him out of sight of the pirates, and he couldn’t leave the baby alone!

 

Hūn was about to point out that so long as he was there, the baby wouldn’t be alone, and he knew Taozu was a better fighter than he was—when suddenly he noticed that the waterbending girl had somehow gotten untied from the tree, and was standing next to the pirates’ ship, trying to push it into the water all by herself.  And then the Avatar and the Water Tribe boy suddenly appeared next to her, and the Avatar and the girl did some waterbending thing together, and then the pirate ship was floating away with the Avatar and his friends on it!

 

Taozu started to bust up laughing when Hūn told him what the Avatar had done. “Serves those pirate scum right, for breaking the deal!”

 

Hūn was still grinning when he turned back to looking out the porthole… and lost his grin in a hurry.  The fighting had stopped when the pirates had noticed that their ship had been taken away from them.  Prince Zuko and most of the others on their crew were still laughing and pointing at the sight, and not noticing that the pirates had, almost in unison, started running _for the river steamer_ …

 

For once, Hūn didn’t need anyone to tell him exactly what to do and how to do it.  He grabbed his spear, stepped outside and closed the cabin door hard behind him, with Taozu and the baby still inside.  Then he kicked hard at the short gangplank leading to the riverbank, knocking it into the water; making it at least a little harder for invaders to come aboard.  And when the pirates came climbing aboard anyway, he raised his spear and shouted with all his heart, “ _For Honor, Glory and the Fire Nation_!” before attacking.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The pirate captain bared his teeth in a savage grin when he saw the lone Fire Nation soldier suddenly jump out of the river boat’s cabin, spear in hand, and kick away the gangplank in a pitiful attempt to deny them the vessel.  He’d already figured on there being one soldier left aboard; there had to be one minding the baby he’d heard yesterday, that the young hothead had foolishly brought on the mission.  But the captain had no interest in babies, just in the river boat that his crew could use to catch up with his own ship.  After he had his own ship back, the baby could be dropped off back at the port town, or just dropped over the side if it started crying again.

 

The lone spearman knew how to use his weapon against multiple foes; he jabbed quickly here and there to keep them at bay, instead of driving it in deep enough to be embedded in anyone.  But with his crew climbing aboard on all sides, it took only a few seconds for someone to get past the defender’s guard with a blade. The first mate sliced him open with a scimitar, and the spearman screamed as he fell to the deck.  The captain grinned as he stepped right over the man’s body to open the door to the cabin, where he knew the controls would be—

 

And only had time to realize that he’d miscalculated, and the Fire Nation crew had left _two_ men aboard with the baby, before he caught a fireball right in the face.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The sight of the pirate crew’s ship sailing away without them, had been the funniest thing Zuko had seen in years!  He joined the men of his crew in laughing at their misfortune, thinking that it served them right for breaking a deal with him—

 

And suddenly he heard someone behind him shouting “ _For Honor, Glory and the Fire Nation_!” and realized that the fighting wasn’t finished after all.  He turned around, and the pirates were _boarding **his boat!**_   Hūn was out on deck with his spear, trying to hold them off all by himself—they were _trying to **kidnap**_ **_TEIJI!_**

 

His uncle told him later that he’d screamed his son’s name and sprinted for the boat faster than a fireball, then made a running leap from the shore to land right in the middle of the fight and start laying waste all around him, but Zuko could never remember that afterwards.  All he could remember was seeing Hūn go down from a sword stroke, and then the pirate captain opening the cabin door only to fall back an instant later screaming and aflame, but the other pirates were there and attacking and **_they had to die_** he had to **_protect his son_** he had to **_kill them all KILL THEM ALL—_**

 

And then suddenly there weren’t any pirates left to fight, and his uncle was shouting at him to calm down and let them come aboard.  He looked around in a daze, down at the bloodied and soot-blackened swords in his hands—where had they come from?  They weren’t his dao blades—and then at the charred and dismembered bodies littering the deck, and then at all his men standing on the riverbank or in the shallows, staring at him in something like awe, or maybe revulsion.

 

He dropped the borrowed swords onto the deck with a clatter and went inside the cabin, to find Taozu looking pale but on his feet, and holding Teiji.  Teiji was crying again but there wasn’t any blood on him; he snatched his son out of the crewman’s arms and held him tight, whispering over and over, “You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re safe…”

 

“Yes, your son is safe,” his uncle said gravely, coming up behind him some time later and laying a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s safe now; it’s over.”

 

The fight was over now… it was over, and he was—

 

He had—

 

He’d—

 

He abruptly spun around and thrust Teiji into his uncle’s arms, and sprinted out of the cabin to the railing.  He almost made it too, but the bile rising in his throat refused to wait until he’d reached the side.  He ended up on hands and knees on the gore-spattered deck, adding to the mess with all the contents of his stomach, and maybe his intestines too.

 

He’d **_killed_** all those men.  Flashes of what he’d done danced in front of his eyes like a demonic parade.  Four pirates had been turned into screaming torches; another one’s blood and brains had spattered everywhere as his skull was caved in.  The swords had been yanked from that one’s grip, and then—flames running down the blades, heads rolling, limbs flying, so much blood everywhere and the stench of burning flesh… They’d been pirates, probably killers themselves.  But he’d never killed anyone before in his life; never even hurt someone seriously if he could help it!  And now he’d…

 

He’d just _humiliated_ himself in front of his crew.  Vomiting in front of them like a sick pygmy-puma; how much more weak and shameful could he get?!  But his stomach refused to listen to his demands for dignity, and continued forcing dry heaves on him even when there was nothing left to throw up.

 

Suddenly someone else was kneeling beside him; not his uncle, but Sergeant Goro.  “Perfectly natural reaction, sir; over half the men in the fleet ended up feeding the fishies after their first kills,” the sergeant said gruffly, with a hesitant pat to his shoulder.  “I remember one youngster puked right on his lieutenant’s shoes; oh, didn’t he just love that one…”

 

“It is indeed a natural reaction,” Iroh said, standing there with Teiji braced on one well-padded hip as Zuko slowly stood up again, feeling like he’d barfed up ten years of his life along with his breakfast.  “Now do come inside; let’s get you cleaned up as best we can, while the men clear the deck.”

 

In the space of what seemed like only a few minutes, he’d gone from being excited and hopeful about capturing the Avatar at last, to feeling betrayed and angry at the pirates breaking their deal, then highly amused, then terrified and enraged, then relieved almost to tears, then nauseous and humiliated… The only thing Zuko could feel now was _tired_.

He nodded numbly, and started to follow his uncle inside the cabin. 

 

Then they all heard Li Mein saying urgently, “He’s still alive!  Someone get the medical kit!”  Zuko turned to see Li Mein kneeling next to Hūn, feeling the pulse at his throat while looking around pleadingly.  Hūn had survived the pirates’ attack!

 

…But not by much.  Taozu came running out with the medical kit, and did his best to treat Hūn’s wounds.  But the pirates had cut him so deep, and Hūn had lost so much blood already…

 

Clearing and cleaning the deck could wait! Zuko ordered them to shove off immediately, and make full speed back to the ship.  The return trip would be faster, going with the river current instead of against it, but would it be fast enough?

 

Once they were underway, the crew started lightening the load on the engines by shoving pirate bodies over the sides. And when Hūn regained consciousness a few minutes later, Zuko fell to his knees beside him, and gripped his crewman’s hand tightly.  “Hūn, you always obey clear and exact orders, don’t you?  Well, I _order_ you to stay alive until we get back to the ship!”

 

“Yes, sir,” Hūn said, and tried to give him a faint smile but didn’t quite succeed.

 

Zuko wasn’t any better at giving encouraging smiles either, but he still gave it his best try.  “We’ll be back aboard the Wani in no time, and Ming-Hoa will fix you right up; you’ll be fit for duty again in another week or two!  Just hang in there, Hūn…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

In the end, Hūn followed Zuko’s orders exactly… he lived until they got back to the ship.

 

But even as he was being loaded onto a stretcher for taking to the infirmary, Zuko heard his last breath catch in his throat, and end in a faint death-rattle.  The ship’s doctor Ming-Hoa examined Hūn, then sorrowfully shook his head and drew a sheet up over his face.

 

A prince of the Fire Nation had to be strong at all times. Zuko gave a curt nod in acknowledgment of the verdict, then took Teiji and followed his uncle to his quarters without another word.

 

 

.

 _To be continued_ …

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make it clear to people who’ve been watching the new Legend of Korra episodes, the animal Katara referred to is not like Naga. Naga is a polar bear-dog; polar-dogs are considerably smaller, instead of solid white fur they have a black strip running from nose to tail, and their ears don’t flop over. The only known sighting of a polar-dog is in the very first ATLA episode, “The Boy in the Iceberg”; one is lying peaceably amidst the gathered children when Katara introduces Aang to the entire village, and when Aang is flying overhead later, curiously opens one blue eye.


	5. Discussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fan at FFnet asked me, “How to do you pronounce ‘Teiji’?” I had to admit that was a very good question! I chose the name from a baby-names list for its meaning, without ever hearing it said aloud. But Google comes to the rescue once more: "The baby boy name Teiji is pronounced as T-IYJHiy" So it's three syllables instead of two, with emphasis on the middle syllable, for anyone else who’s curious.
> 
> And since so many people at FFnet have been asking in reviews and PM’s about this story’s pairings: This story will eventually span all three seasons of the show and beyond, but I have no plans to pair up anyone romantically (at least, not in a lasting manner) during the first-season events. This story's first season will focus on familial relationships and friendships, as well as loyalty and group dynamics such as Zuko's changing relationship with his crew.

Katara had been rather proud of herself for coming up with the idea of using the pirates’ own ship to escape from them, while they were too busy fighting the Fire Nation troops to notice.  Sokka called himself ‘the Idea Guy’, but he wasn’t the only clever person in the family!   With Aang’s help, she floated the ship out into the water and they climbed aboard, leaving the battle behind them. 

 

Yes, she was pretty proud of herself… until they realized that they’d missed the river fork that led to a long and gradual descent to sea level, and the ship was heading straight for a waterfall dead ahead. Then pride turned into a wailing  _Oh, slush_!

 

The next five minutes were full of the most frantic waterbending she’d ever done in her life, desperately working with Aang to keep the ship from going over the falls.  Aang shouted, “Sokka, I can’t take the time to stop and do it; you need to reach into my shirt!”

 

“I need to _what_?” Sokka shouted back while frantically tugging on the ship’s rigging, trying to use the sails to catch any wind that would help push them back upstream, and tossing Aang a look of outrage.  “How can you be thinking about scratching an itch at a time like this?!”

 

“I don’t have an itch, I have _the_ _whistle_!  The bison whistle; it’ll summon Appa from wherever he’s gone to graze, so he can get us out of here!”

 

“That whistle you bought in the market yesterday? But it doesn’t even work!” Sokka protested. But Aang kept insisting, and they were all desperate enough that he reached into Aang’s shirt and fished out the bison-shaped whistle, blew into it as hard as he could, and kept blowing until he was red in the face.

 

Katara still couldn’t hear anything from the whistle, but in just a few minutes, the constant roar of the waterfall was joined by the roaring of a sky bison as Appa came soaring over to them.  He hovered directly over the ship so they could grab onto the toes of his massive feet (Katara spared a brief moment to be thankful that Sokka had cleaned the mud and bugs out from between them yesterday morning), and he lifted them to safety as the ship swept forward and over the falls.  “I knew a bison whistle would come in handy! Thanks, Appa!” Aang said happily.

 

“Yeah, we owe you one!” Sokka breathlessly agreed as Appa set down on the riverbank nearby just long enough for them to clamber aboard into his saddle. Even over the roar of the falls, Katara could hear the _crash_ of the wooden ship hitting the bottom of the falls and smashing to pieces, and she promised herself she would buy the biggest, juiciest melon she could find at the market in the next town they stopped at, for Appa’s thank-you gift. 

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After guiding Appa to head due north, Aang hopped back to the saddle to be with his friends.  Katara met him with a troubled expression as she said, “Aang, I still owe you an apology.” She looked down at the saddle as she continued, “You were just so good at waterbending, without really trying. I got so competitive that I put us all in danger. I'm sorry.”

 

“That’s okay, Katara,” he said cheerfully.  He was just glad that they’d gotten away from Zuko and the pirates, and his best friend wasn’t mad at him anymore.

 

But Katara was still sad, as she said in a really unconvincing way, “Besides, who needs that stupid scroll anyway.”

 

“Is that really how you feel?” Sokka said with a smirk from the other side of the saddle, as he suddenly whipped out—the waterbending scroll!

 

“The scroll!” Katara almost squealed with delight, as she reached for it.

 

But Sokka pushed her back while holding it out of her reach and saying, “First, what did you learn?”

 

Katara made a face at her brother, but dutifully said, “Stealing is wrong.” And as Sokka handed over the scroll, she added with a little shudder, “And even if they stole it first, you don’t steal from pirates!  Those horrible… you don’t want to know what they were planning to do to me; what they would have done if Prince Zuko hadn’t gotten to me first!”

 

Sokka gave his sister a weird look as he said slowly, “Are you trying to say that Angry Jerk _saved you_ from the pirates?”

 

“Well… in a way, yeah,” Katara admitted, looking down at her hands. 

 

“Pffft!  If he did, he saved you from them only so he could capture you himself,” Sokka said with a dismissive wave.  “One group is as bad as the other, if you ask me!  But with any luck, they’ll both be so busy fighting over who gets the only ship left, that they’ll--”

 

“Fighting over the only ship left?” Katara interrupted him, her eyes wide.

 

“Yup,” as Sokka started grinning again.  “You guys didn’t see it?  I guess you were too busy waterbending us out into the main current to look back.  But yeah, just after we took off, I saw everybody stop fighting long enough to look at us sailing away.  And it looked like the Fire Nation troops were all laughing, but I’ll bet they stopped laughing when they noticed the pirates all running for their river boat instead!”

 

But instead of grinning with him, Katara’s face turned pale and her eyes went even wider as she clapped her hands to her mouth in sheer horror.  “Thevavy!” they heard her say with her voice muffled behind her hands, before she lowered them to shout practically right in their faces, “We have to go back!  We have to go back right now!”

 

“What?!  Why, so we can get captured again?” Sokka demanded.

 

“No, you don’t understand; there’s a _baby_ aboard that Fire Nation boat!”

 

“A what?” as Aang stared at her in astonishment, wondering for a moment if he’d heard her right.  “A baby?  What’s a baby doing there?”

 

“I’ll explain later!  We have to make sure he’s safe!”

 

But even while Aang was still turning around, Sokka shoved past him to scramble up to Appa’s head.  The Water Tribe teen yanked hard on the reins as he shouted, “C’mon, big guy, turn around!  We’ve got a baby to save!”

 

Appa growled in protest at the way the reins and his horns were being abused, but banked hard to the right to turn around, so suddenly and steeply that everyone had to grab hold of something to keep from falling off.  But even once they’d straightened out and were flying level again, Sokka was gripping the reins till his knuckles turned white, while muttering, “C’mon, faster, _faster_!  We’ve gotta get there before they _roast_ him! Curse those Fire Nation scum!  Raiding, kidnapping, murdering--”

 

His words carried back to the saddle, and Katara shook her head, her long braid whipping in wind of their passage. “Not safe from the Fire Nation; safe from the _pirates_!” she shouted forward to Sokka.  “If they find the baby, they could kill him!”

 

“Okay, so we’ll save him from all of them!” Sokka retorted over his shoulder, before he snapped the reins and barked “Yip yip!” to urge Appa to fly even faster.  Katara looked like she was about to speak again, but instead just gripped the saddle edge and looked grimly determined as she nodded agreement.

 

Flying high over the forest, they passed over the clearing they’d camped in last night, then found the riverbank and began following the river downstream.  They found the fork in the river that led away from the falls, and Sokka urged Appa to follow it until they saw the little Fire Nation river steamer heading swiftly back to the port town. 

 

 “Okay, how are we going to do this?” Sokka asked, thinking out loud as they began gaining on the vessel; it was moving at a fast pace with the current’s help, but Appa was still just a little bit faster.  “Waterbend it into running aground and wrecking the hull?  How close do you guys have to be to the water to bend it?”

 

“Closer than this, that’s for sure,” Katara said, looking worried.  “Aang, do you see any pirates aboard?”  They’d figured out a while ago that Aang had the best eyesight out of all of them, and years of experience at figuring out what things were from a long way up.

 

Aang peered hard at the people on the deck of the river boat ahead and below them, still nearly a thousand feet away, and shook his head.  “No pirates at all; just Fire Nation troops.  Maybe Zuko’s crew just chased them off before they could board.”  He wondered briefly what the pirates would tell people had happened to their ship, after they walked all the way back to port.

 

“Or they couldn’t figure out how to operate the engine fast enough, before the Fire troops recaptured their boat,” Sokka suggested. “Either way it’s a good thing, because it means fewer foes for us to deal with.  But we still have to… um, wait a minute,” as he glanced over his shoulder.  “Katara, normally I wouldn’t doubt you, but before we go charging into battle, I have to ask this: are you _absolutely sure_ there’s a baby aboard their boat? There are animals out there that sound a little like babies, y’know; did you see this kid with your own eyes?”

 

“I saw him, Sokka.” Katara’s voice was solemn, her eyes troubled.  “They brought him out of the boat to Zuko when he woke up crying.  And then Zuko…” her voice trailed off.

 

Sokka tensed up all over, and turned completely around to show them a terrible scowl that made him look years older than he really was.  “What did he do?  Shake it?  Try to _drown_ it?  Tell us the worst, Sis; _what did he do_?!”

 

“He rubbed his back and sang a lullaby, over and over until the baby fell asleep again.”

 

In the sudden silence, Aang swore he could even hear _Appa_ blinking in befuddlement.  Sokka finally said simply, “What?”

 

Katara just spread her hands helplessly, as if she couldn’t understand it either.  “I swear I’m not joking! Zuko was patient and _kind_ with the baby; treated him like his own son!  He even… he even talked about having built a secret shrine to his own mother after she died, and how he’d make it a shrine to the baby’s mother too!”

 

After another second of just staring, Sokka finally slapped his knee and gave a little shake of his head, as if he’d just realized something and was a little annoyed with himself for not figuring it out earlier.  “Oh, it was a _Fire Nation_ baby!   Even wolf-gators are kind to their own young.  Why didn’t you say so earlier?  Never mind, Appa, false alarm,” he said breezily as he patted the massive head he was sitting on, before turning and tugging the reins—gently this time—to steer them north again.

 

But as they flew off north, Katara kept on looking back at the boat vanishing into the distance behind them, and occasionally shook her head.  Aang finally asked, “What’s the matter, Katara?”

 

“Well… the elder with Prince Zuko, his uncle—Iroh, I think his name was—he said they’d _found_ the baby, and saved him from some Earth Kingdom peasants that were going to kill him because of his eyes.”

 

“His eyes?  What about them?” Aang asked.

 

Without looking at them, Sokka said over his shoulder, “They’re probably gold eyes.” Adding with a snort of disgust, “Three guesses how _that_ happened to a kid from an Earth Kingdom mother.”

 

But before Aang could start guessing aloud, Katara spoke up again.  “But that’s just it; they said his eyes weren’t gold at all!  Instead, they were polar-dog eyes!”

 

That got Sokka twisting around to look at his sister again. “Huh?”

 

“You know; like Akia’s polar-dog Inu. One eye is blue, but the other one is brown.”

 

“A witch-child?  Really?” Aang said eagerly.  He’d heard stories of witches with eyes like that; the blue eye looked into the Spirit World instead of the mortal world, so they could treat small spirits like pets and summon them to do their bidding.  But he’d never seen one with his own eyes, and even Monk Gyatso said he’d never actually met someone like that, only heard spirit-tales about them.  The stories said that all witches were evil, but Monk Gyatso also said that sometimes people only acted the way other people expected them to act, and witches might turn out to be good if people treated them kindly and hoped they would be kind in return.

 

But Katara gave him a sharp look in response.  “What makes you so sure he’s a witch-child, just because he’s got eyes of different colors?”  And when he explained about the spirit-tales, Katara snorted in disgust before pointing out, “Both of my eyes are blue; do you think that means that I only see into the Spirit World?”

 

“Um, no… but that’s different; you’re from the Water Tribe!  It’s normal for you to have blue eyes!”  Aang shrugged.  “Hey, all I know about them is what the spirit-tales say.”

 

“And those spirit-tales almost got this innocent baby _killed_ ,” Katara said harshly, as if she was somehow blaming Aang for those old stories.  “Zuko and his uncle told me all that, but I didn’t want to believe them…” She crossed her arms as she huffed, “It’s a pretty sorry state of affairs when someone from the _Fire Nation_ has to step in and save children from being murdered by their own people!”

 

But Sokka said slowly, “Sis, I couldn’t help noticing that you kept saying ‘Zuko said this’ or ‘Iroh said that’ and such.  Did you actually get to see the baby’s eyes yourself?”  And when Katara admitted she hadn’t, he went on, “So how do you know they weren’t lying to you about the whole thing?  You know, as a ruse to get you to lower your guard or something?”

 

Katara stared back at him.  “Sokka, when they brought out the baby, I was already _tied to a tree_.  And even had a gag tied over my mouth, after all I gave Zuko was insults instead of information on where to find you!  Why would he try to get me to lower my guard _after_ doing all that?”

 

“Because they’re as crazy as they are vicious and cruel,” Sokka said with a shrug, as he turned around and went back to steering their course again; it was clear that the matter was settled as far as he was concerned.  But from Katara’s expression, she was still bothered by what she’d seen while captive, and Aang admitted to himself that she wasn’t the only one.

 

Oh, it didn’t bother him that some Fire Nation people had rescued a baby; he was actually really glad to hear it, because that meant that there were still good people in the Fire Nation after all, good people like his old friend Kuzon had been!  But he was really bothered by the idea of the baby being in danger in the first place, whether he was a witch-child or not.  Would anyone really kill an innocent baby, just because they were afraid of what he _might_ do to them when he was grown up? 

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Chun the pirate laboriously pulled himself out of the river and flopped onto the riverbank, gasping for breath.  Enma’s balls, he’d thought he was a goner!  The only way to escape that--that _demon_ of a firebender, had been to jump overboard into the river and let the current sweep him far away.  He and another crewmember—Hano, he thought—had done that after seeing six of their people killed in less than six seconds.  But after some flailing and a couple of choked cries, Hano had gone under and not come up again; the Gwan River was strong and fast, and downright lethal to the unwary. Chun considered himself a damn good swimmer, but even he had barely made it back out of the current and to safety.

 

It was going to be a long, long walk back to civilization.  And probably a long wait once he reached port, lying low since he was without a crew to back him up in case of trouble, until he found another pirate ship that would take him on.  But at least he was still alive; Sil Jon, the patron spirit of pirates, must have really appreciated that offering of _sake_ and tobacco that he’d made last week.  Chun sat up with a weary, snaggletoothed grin, and saluted Sil Jon again before getting to his feet to begin trudging downriver.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Back aboard his ship and in his cabin, Zuko was absolutely at his wit’s end.  His uncle had gone down to the records office to get Hūn’s file, with the information Zuko would need for writing his crewman’s eulogy, while Zuko stayed with Teiji. The baby just wouldn’t stop crying and fussing!

 

Taozu had said Teiji had been fine for the first minute or two after waking up that morning, but he’d started crying just a few moments before the pirates stormed aboard the ship, and he hadn’t stopped since then.  (Zuko wondered if he had somehow sensed trouble coming for him; Uncle was downright firm on the baby having no spiritual powers, but the spirits of kirin didn’t hover around just any peasant baby.)  But he hadn’t stopped crying after the danger was over, hadn’t stopped crying after Zuko had grabbed a rag and cleaned all the pirate blood and gore off himself to look less frightening, and hadn’t stopped crying even though nearly the entire mission team had taken turns singing rhymes and nursery songs to him. He’d fussed in Zuko’s arms, fussed in Iroh’s arms and even refused to eat the breakfast they’d improvised for him from field rations, while speeding back to the ship in their desperate and ultimately futile effort to save Hūn from dying.  What had happened to the sweet-tempered and giggling child they’d rescued a few days ago?

 

Now that they were back in his cabin, Zuko had hoped that the familiar surroundings would calm him down, but so far it didn’t seem to be working.  He tried to distract Teiji from whatever was making him cry by soaring the wooden dragon toy over his head, something that the baby had absolutely adored two evenings ago, but Teiji just kept on fussing.  Teiji didn’t want the cloth stuffed panda he’d bought yesterday, either, or the monkey drum, and when Zuko handed him the kokeshi dolls, he—he _threw them right back in Zuko’s face_! 

 

“Teiji!” he exclaimed, shocked and hurt—not by the actual impact, that was barely noticeable, but Teiji’s clear rejection of him hit and crushed him worse than a dozen earthbenders’ boulders.  He knew it was because he’d _failed_ as a father, he’d let Teiji be put in danger, they should have gone straight back to the ship as soon as they’d realized Teiji was aboard! But instead, Teiji had been _scared_ by the pirates and battle and all the blood, and now he—

 

But just then his uncle came in through the door, with Hūn’s file in his hands.  “What happened?” he asked as soon as he saw Zuko, his wrinkled brow creasing even more with worry.

 

“T-Teiji, he… he…” Zuko couldn’t actually make himself say the words, _He hates me now_ ; they clogged up in his suddenly tight throat, and his eyes were stinging but he was **_not_** going to cry, he was **_strong_** instead of a weak crybaby, he was **_not_** going to cry…

 

“Oh dear,” and suddenly Hūn’s file had been tossed onto the bed and Uncle was throwing his arms around him, hugging him tightly before he could protest—no hugs, he wasn’t a baby!—before just as suddenly stepping back to hold him at arms’ length while giving him an intense look.  “Nephew, listen to me.  Your son is _grieving_.  He is mourning the loss of his mother, and right now that grief is taking the form of _anger_.  He is angry at the entire world, for taking his mother away from him, likely the source of all the love and comfort he had ever known in his short life. And he is angry at you, because it is _safe_ for him to be angry here.”

 

“I… I don’t understand,” he managed to say past that stupid lump in his throat.  “Safe?” But he’d let Teiji be put in danger! 

 

“Yes, safe.  Sometimes, nephew, for survival’s sake, people can push their true emotions aside to deal with the situation at hand, even when those emotions would normally be overwhelming.  When we found Teiji, he was cold, exhausted, starving, and alone with his mother’s corpse; a harrowing situation indeed.  Then we rescued him, and brought him to safety; now he is warm and fed and surrounded by people who accept him despite his differences, you most of all. Teiji knows now that _you_ , nephew, will never abandon him or reject him; that you will always be there for him, as a parent should be.” Iroh’s voice was firm, but there seemed to a hint of uncertain worry in his eyes, as if he was actually unsure Zuko had fully committed himself to parenthood.  Zuko responded to both his words and his fears with a slow, firm nod while blinking back the tears again.

 

Iroh continued, “But he has already known so much rejection in his life; from those villagers his mother fled from, perhaps from every village they had ever been in. The only one who had always been there for him before was his mother, but now she is gone, and he is too young to understand how death took her from him; he only knows that she is never coming back. For him, it seems the ultimate rejection; do you understand?”

 

Zuko’s heart wrenched inside his chest, for _reasons he was_ _not going to think about right now_ , but he gave a quick jerky nod in response to Iroh’s question.

 

Iroh’s eyes were warm with sympathy, and his voice firm. “Now that Teiji knows he is safe with you, nephew, he can express the pain and loss that are currently wrenching his spirit. He _must_ express it, or it will fester inside him for years and eventually poison his entire being. It is unfortunate for you that right now the pain is taking the form of anger, but you must remain firm and steady, and support him while you wait for it to pass.”

 

Zuko nodded again in acceptance if not full understanding, and looked over at where Teiji was sitting on the floor, alternately gnawing on one of his teething toys and beating it harshly against a leg of Zuko’s writing desk.  “How long will he be like this, Uncle?  How long will it take before he’s… before he’s ready to be happy again?”

 

Uncle heaved a huge, gusty sigh, and sounded defeated as he responded, “It can take _years_ , Zuko.  Long and _miserable_ years…” Then his tone changed to one of encouragement as he added, “But that is for much older children and adults.  The younger children are, the more quickly they adapt; I think this spell shall pass quickly, just a few weeks at most.”

 

At the word ‘years’, Zuko’s only thought was a bleak _Oh bright Agni, please kill me now._ Iroh’s later words of reassurance helped a little, but still, the next few weeks were going to be terrible for them both. He sighed and shook his head—he was strong, and he’d endure because he had to; it was as simple as that—and then reached for Hūn’s file.  He had a duty to his crew as well as to Teiji, and it was time he attended to it.

 

“Yaaah!” Teiji shouted at him as he stepped carefully around the boy to take his writing supplies down from the shelf, and threw his teething toy at him too.  Zuko took it without flinching this time, but as he set the supplies on his desk, he silently wondered how he was going to focus on everything he needed to do that day with Teiji behaving like that.

 

“Here, let me take him to my cabin while you work,” Iroh offered, scooping Teiji up off the floor while deftly avoiding the child’s waving fists.  “…It may be that, even though I am a fat, lazy, foolish, disgusting, worthless, geezer, crazy old gasbag of a senile failure, I might be of some use to you that way.”

 

Zuko had been smoothing out some paper to begin, but he paused to turn and look askance at his uncle while Iroh was reciting that litany of insults.  “Why are you calling yourself—oh, _ashes_ ,” as it suddenly hit him, like a hard kick to the chest.  Those were all words that **_he’d_** called his uncle in the past few years, ever since his banishment and the start of their search for the Avatar.

 

When he could breathe again, he stammered out, “Uncle, I’m--”

 

“You have a duty to your crew, Prince Zuko,” Iroh quite deliberately interrupted without looking at him, as he walked out of the cabin with a still-fussing Teiji in his arms.  “That must come first right now.”

 

  1. The cabin door closed, and Zuko just flopped forward to lay face-down on his desk, unable to lift his head under a crushing load of combined guilt and shame.   



 

He’d been behaving _just like Teiji_.  Taking all his anger and pain over being burned and banished out on his poor uncle, who didn’t deserve any of it.  Uncle Iroh had tried to warn him against coming into the war meeting, hadn’t he?  And then warned him to keep silent during it, but he hadn’t, because he’d been too outraged at General Bujing’s proposal. And then after he’d been burned by Father for his shameful behavior and banished, Uncle had _chosen_ to stay by his side, to leave their beautiful homeland behind and travel the wide and inhospitable world with him.  And how had he thanked Uncle Iroh for all of his sacrifice?  With three years of insults, belittling, and blatant disrespect far, far worse than his single outburst in the war room. 

 

His uncle should have declared an Agni Kai for all that disrespect, and just put an end to Zuko’s miserable existence years ago.  He didn’t _deserve_ to live…

 

But he was still alive, and while he lived he had responsibilities to take care of.  Including performing his duties to his crew, as his uncle had just reminded him.  Zuko slowly lifted his head from his desk, and discarded the now crumpled and tearstained sheet of paper on it.  He opened up Hūn’s service record as well as his personal copies of the officers’ manuals for official ceremonies and for awards, set out the ink and more paper, and began writing.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

 

The funeral tiles were brought out of storage just before noon; white ceramic tiles that were designed to resist sustained high heat and interlocked to form a low platform on the deck. Hūn’s body was placed reverently atop the tiles, wrapped in a specially-treated white cloth. The crew assembled on deck in either full armor or their dress uniforms, draped with white surcoats for mourning.   

 

General Iroh wasn’t present for the assembly, and word was quietly passed through the ranks that he was staying in his cabin with the fussy baby.  Prince Zuko stood in a spot facing the body and the assembled crew, wearing a white surcoat over his armor; the surcoat didn’t entirely cover the stains from that morning’s battle that hadn’t been completely scrubbed off yet.  

 

The prince unrolled the scroll he was holding and began reading aloud from it:  “We gather here to remember the life of our fallen comrade in arms, Hūn, son of Chao and Mikiko, of Shu Jing province.  Born on the seventh day of the sixth month in the Year of the Dog, Hūn was a good and dutiful son to his parents.” 

 

“After enlisting in the service and completing his initial training, he was assigned to the troop carrier _Aoba_ and served there with honor, participating in the Battle of Hanu Strait, before being assigned two years ago to our ship, the _Wani_.  Private Hūn died honorably, of wounds received in battle, and will be missed by all.  We will honor his memory always, as we honor his remains today and send his spirit home to Agni’s warm embrace.”

 

Listening to the eulogy, Sergeant Anzu noted with resignation that it had been practically word-for-word from the fleet’s official book of ceremonies and rituals.  Commanders usually personalized and added to the ceremonial words as appropriate, but Prince Zuko had only filled in the required information about Hūn’s background; there had been nothing about his personality or his personal achievements.  But Anzu had to admit that Hūn hadn’t done much in his cut-short career that was worth celebrating, and at least the eulogy hadn’t mentioned his low intelligence, or the screw-ups ranging from minor mistakes to ship-wide disasters that had landed Hūn on the _Wani_ in the first place.

 

 After the reading was concluded, Prince Zuko rolled up the scroll and tucked it away.  That was Anzu’s signal to step forward, along with Lieutenant Jee and Corporal Akio; three of the best firebenders in the crew.  They each took a side of the rectangular funeral platform, Prince Zuko at the head, and they all fired their hottest blasts straight at the cloth-covered corpse on the tiles. 

 

The accelerant impregnated in the white funeral cloth caught fire instantly, and flames roared towards the heavens.  The four firebenders kept pouring out flames for a full five minutes, until all that was left of Hūn was a long low pile of ashes.  Prince Zuko gave a polite bow to the ashes, then faced the sun and gave a far deeper bow to Agni, before dismissing the assembly.  Lieutenant Jee nodded to Sergeant Goro, who picked up the urn the quartermaster had provided and silently began gathering up Hūn’s ashes to send home, while everyone else quietly filed away.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

By unspoken but longstanding tradition, after the funeral for Hūn, there was an unofficial wake for the departed in the mess hall.  The Wani was normally a ‘dry’ ship, with plenty of tea but no alcohol allowed aboard. But also by longstanding tradition, the people who had managed to sneak some _sake,_ _baiju_ or other nonregulation beverages aboard after their brief shore leave, broke out their small stashes to share with their crewmates.

 

But this wake was rather different than most that Jiro had attended in his military career.  Today, the crew spent less time talking about their crewmate Hūn than they did about Prince Zuko and the baby he’d brought aboard.

 

Tadao darkly expressed his opinion that ‘the witch-child’, as he still called Teiji, was to blame for his friend Hūn’s death; that the baby brought bad luck to whoever held him for any length of time, and Hūn was the first example of just how bad that luck could get.  But he was nearly shouted down by an utterly exasperated Lieutenant Jee: “In the first place, I’ve told you _at least_ _a dozen fucking times already_ that the baby is **_not_** a witch-child!  And in the second place, maybe you never _noticed_ before, but the mission we’re on is anything but sunshine and fire lilies!  It’s spirits-damned _dangerous_ , because the prince is trying to _capture the Avatar_!   Remember what that bald-headed demon-child did to our ship and crew when we first encountered him?  It was only by the grace of Agni that we didn’t lose anyone in those spirits-damned polar waters!  Or on Kyoshi Island, where they have that sea serpent nearly three times the size of our ship!”

 

“And you could even make an argument that the baby has been _good_ luck for us,” Taozu added in with a glare at Tadao.  “Or don’t you remember how the surprise of him coming aboard made the lieutenant forget to tell the prince about the midnight watch’s Avatar sighting? I know you’ve heard just like everyone else by now, the hawk-message about where the Avatar went after that; right over Commander Zhao’s head, on his way to causing a volcanic eruption that wrecked the temple on Crescent Island!  If Prince Zuko _had_ been told about that sighting, sure as sunset, we would have been caught right in the middle of that catastrophe!”

 

Tadao shut up and just sat there sullenly nursing his drink, while the conversation turned from the baby to Prince Zuko, and what he’d done that morning to the pirate crew.

 

“I’m telling you, he killed every last one of them in less than thirty seconds; hells, less than fifteen!”  Goro insisted, his features filled again with awe.  “And using moves I’ve never seen him do before; hells, moves I’ve never seen _any_ bender use before!  Running fire down the blades he’d taken from one of his first kills, to make them look like an _oni_ ’s blades straight out of a spirit-tale… And may I be damned straight to Koh’s Lair if he didn’t handle those swords like a master, when I’ve never seen him use _any_ blades besides that dagger he keeps in his boot!”

 

“(cough) witch-powers (cough)” Tadao grumbled, and then dodged the cuff Joben aimed at his head.

 

“It was pretty awesome,” Anzu agreed, “and you all know I don’t use that word lightly.  I dunno how he mastered swords without anyone finding out—or why, for that matter!  Because his bending’s becoming more impressive every day, now that he’s actually _listening_ to his uncle’s advice.  Lieutenant, you remember how you’d described to us his Agni Kai with Zhao?”  None of the crew had witnessed the fight from the sidelines, having been confined to the ship by Zhao’s troops, but Lieutenant Jee had used the telescope to watch the duel from afar and given the crew a blow-by-blow description of the battle.  “You said he’d tried early on to use the ‘tiger-dillo’s paw’ on Zhao, but Zhao sent him flying instead.  Well, he was more than effective with it against one of the pirates; he caved in the bugger’s skull! And that was right _after_ he used the ‘nova-burst’ technique while still leaping aboard, to take out four pirates before his feet even touched the deck!” 

 

“He killed all of those pirate scum in probably less time than it takes to talk about it,” Li Mein said quietly, staring into his drink. “If he’d just gotten there a few seconds sooner, he probably could have kept them from killing Hūn…”  Knowing that Hūn and Li Mein had been friends, Jiro was about to squeeze his shoulder in sympathy when the crewman sat up a little straighter and said firmly, “Understand, I’m _not_ blaming him for Hūn’s death.  Hells, he got to the ship faster than any of us did!  And after the fight was over, when we found out Hūn was still alive… the prince was genuinely concerned for him, tried to rally him to hang in there and everything!”

 

“Oh come on; stop shoveling on the komodo-rhino dung,” Kunio sneered.  “I can believe that the prince’s firebending is improving, because it had damn well better improve after three years of almost nothing but training!  But being a master swordsman too?  And actually giving a damn about any of us?  Somebody must have spiked their booze with cactus juice, for you to be having hallucinations already!”

 

“I gotta admit, that last part is really stretching it,” Sheng said with a frown, while putting down his own drink.  “If he actually cared at all about Hūn, he sure wasn’t showing it at the funeral.  Or when Ming-Hoa pronounced him dead on arrival; I was standing right there with the stretcher, and even rocks would show more emotion than he did.” Then he gave a small start before quickly adding, “I-I mean, his face was just as emotionless as stone!  You know what I mean?”

 

“Yeah, we know,” Tetsuko said glumly.  “I’ll admit I’ve had worse commanders in my career—like Zhao, for instance—but I’ve sure had better, too.”

 

But several seconds later they heard the creak of the door to the mess hall swinging open, and everyone at the unofficial wake turned towards it—to see Prince Zuko standing there, with a scroll in his hand.  They scrambled to their feet, some of them trying to quickly hide the booze they’d been drinking, but he ignored nearly everyone there, his eyes searching for and focusing on Lieutenant Jee.

 

He strode up to the table Jee had been sitting at while giving the room a general order of “Sit” instead of the more polite “Be seated,” as if they were all lion-dogs instead of people. Then he unceremoniously pushed Jee’s drink to one side so he could lay the scroll down on the table. Everyone slowly sat down, frowning at the prince’s rudeness—interrupting a _wake_ , just for some paperwork? That was a new low even for the Royal Pain!—but he arrogantly ignored them as he unrolled the scroll and weighted it at one end with an inkwell he pulled out of his sleeve, and his hand at the other end.  “Sign,” he ordered just as abruptly, whipping out an ink brush and handing it to Jee. “This one normally takes two officers’ endorsement before the Board of Admirals will review it, so I’m making sure they’ll have no grounds for refusal.”

 

Jee frowned at him, but accepted the ink brush, and dipped it into the inkwell as he redirected that frown down at the paper in front of him.  And then he abruptly lost that frown, as his eyes went wide and his right hand froze with the ink brush dipped and ready.

 

“Don’t drip on the parchment!” Zuko snapped irritably.

 

“Uh-yes, sir,” Jee said, hurriedly moving the ink brush back over the inkwell, but otherwise still just staring at the document in front of him.

 

“Well?  I told you to sign it, Lieutenant!  Unless you have some objection,” but the glare and underlying growl in Zuko’s voice made it plain that he would not tolerate any objection at all.

 

“Er—no objection, sir!  And I will sign it… but first, requesting permission to read this aloud, sir?  For the benefit of the crew, sir; chances are that most of them have never heard one of these read aloud before.”

 

The prince gave an impatient huff, but indicated with a brusque wave of his hand that Jee could go ahead, so long as he got it over with quickly. Jee nodded, and then began reading aloud:

 

 “Official Nomination for Fleet Honors.  Nominee: Hūn, son of Chao and Mikiko, of Shu Jing province. Rank of Honor requested: _Order of the Crimson Banner_.  The Justification:

 

“On the sixteenth day of the eleventh month in the year of the Ram, Hūn was on watch aboard a river steamer during a mission on the Gwan River in Senlin Province of the Earth Kingdom.  An orphaned child was aboard the steamer, having been rescued by a member of the crew from certain death two days earlier, and was awaiting transport to the ship at the end of the mission; in the meantime, the members of the mission crew were taking turns minding the child.  The river steamer had been beached and the engine stopped while most of the team was away on the mission; Hūn and only one other crewman were aboard with the child when a crew of river pirates stormed the boat, with clear intentions to seize it and kill everyone aboard. 

 

“Leaving his shipmate inside the cabin to guard the child, Hūn stepped out to do battle with the entire crew of pirates.  Despite the overwhelming odds, armed with only a spear and Agni’s own radiant courage, Hūn managed to hold all fourteen pirates off long enough for reinforcements to arrive and save both the vessel and the child aboard.  Hūn was mortally wounded in combat and died soon afterwards, but for his honor, compassion for the innocent, bravery and battle prowess he should be posthumously awarded the Order of the Crimson Banner.”

 

The crew had been quiet at the start of the reading, but by the end of it they were so silent that an observer could swear he heard dust motes falling, and all of them staring at Prince Zuko in utter disbelief.  The Order of the Crimson Banner was the second-highest honor possible to be bestowed on a member of the military, and recipients were few and far between; less than a dozen of them were awarded each year (and most of them posthumously; it was a long and bloody war, after all.)  An incredibly high honor, and Prince Zuko wanted it to be awarded to Hūn the Idiot?

 

The prince was clearly not happy with the way they were staring at him; he snarled in a way that sounded almost defensive, “Hūn can’t be awarded the Order of the Dragon Flame, the award usually given to palace guards who die in the line of duty.  Teiji’s adoption hasn’t been made official yet, and anyway, he’ll never be in line for the throne because he’s not of royal blood!”

 

Jee blinked up at Prince Zuko a couple of times before saying, “Understood, sir.  In that case, the Order of the Crimson Banner is more appropriate.  But, ah, sir, if I may ask a question or two about the wording?”

 

Zuko slammed his hand down on the table. “The wording’s fine; I checked it against the example in the Awards Manual myself! Just _sign_ , already!” as he jabbed a finger at the appropriate line.

 

“Yes, sir!” as Lieutenant Jee inked his brush and signed the document, and then waved a carefully heated palm over the ink to dry it faster.  When it was dry, Prince Zuko rolled up the scroll and stomped out of the mess hall without another word to anyone.

 

After the prince slammed the door shut after him, Lieutenant Jee leaned back in his chair and said to the room at large, “That was the prince’s own handwriting… and if the general had dictated it to him, with Iroh’s decades of experience in writing up documents like that, he wouldn’t have bothered checking it against the Awards Manual afterwards.  Roll me in cinders and straight to Koh’s Lair, but that was _all Prince Zuko’s idea_.  Probably his way of thanking Hūn for helping to save little Teiji.”

 

“But that’s not right!” Li Mein protested.  “I mean, I considered Hūn a friend, and it’d be some comfort for his family if they knew he died with honor, but it didn’t happen that way!  So much of what you read to us was… For starters, _we_ didn’t rescue the kid; the prince did!”

 

“But the prince is also our captain, which technically makes him a member of the crew,” Anzu mused aloud which stroking his graying mustache.

 

"And if he wants to call himself just ‘reinforcements’ too, I reckon that’s his right,” Goro said with a wry grin.  “Maybe it’s not the whole truth, but technically not one single word of that scroll was a lie.  And yeah, it sounds a helluva lot more impressive than what actually happened, with Teiji’s being there purely by mistake and with Hūn not lasting even thirty seconds against the pirates, but it probably takes a lot to impress the Board of Admirals.  I wonder if they’ll agree he earned it, and give him the award?”

 

“Probably not; we’re required to send a copy of the nominee’s service record along for any honor that high, and Hūn’s record…” Jee let his painfully wry smile finish the sentence for him.  Then he continued, “But they’re not going to outright refuse to give him any posthumous honors, not when it’s been requested by a prince, and the admirals will know General Iroh is aboard too.  There’ll be some official recognition of his sacrifice; they’ll probably downgrade it to the Order of the Mongoose-Lizard, but that’s better than nothing.”

 

“Yup; from what I could tell of their letters to Hūn, even the Order of the Mongoose-Lizard is more than his family ever expected of him,” Li Mein said a little sadly.  After another minute or two of drinking in the still quiet room, Li Mein stood up a little unsteadily but said firmly, “I want to make another toast.”

 

Everyone looked at him inquisitively, and Lieutenant Jee made a gesture to indicate he should go ahead and do it.  Li Mein raised his cup and said loudly, almost defiantly, “To Prince Zuko!”

 

That was one toast that had never, _ever_ been made by the crew before, even on the rare occasions they’d been able to smuggle booze aboard.  But after a few heartbeats of silence, Lieutenant Jee raised his cup high and said firmly, “To Prince Zuko!” And in a ragged chorus, the rest of the crew followed suit in toasting the prince before downing their drinks.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Two decks away, Zuko paused and turned back towards the mess hall for a moment in puzzlement.  Had he just heard… had the crew really just _toasted him_?  Just a few minutes after what he’d overheard on the way down to the mess hall, Tetsuko saying he was only a little better than that honorless scum Zhao?

 

No, it couldn’t have been.  He knew all too well what his crew thought of him; they’d be more apt to toast Zhao, or even an _Earth Kingdom_ general, than ‘the Royal Pain’.  Anyway, no matter what they’d been talking about, he’d done his duty today for the crew and as much as he could for poor Hūn; now it was time to do right by his family.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

For the last few hours Iroh had been in his cabin with Teiji, trying his best to keep the baby’s fussing to a minimum, and reproving himself for sandbagging his nephew like that.  Yes, when the opportunity had presented itself, the temptation to point out to Zuko how much his own behavior had been mirroring an upset baby’s had been nearly irresistible, but the key word was _nearly_.  The poor boy was already swimming in waters well over his head but struggling as best he could to be to be a good father; this was hardly the time to remind him that he could be a better nephew as well!

 

But done was done, the tea had been poured, and he would not attempt to switch the cups now; he would only wait and see what his nephew chose to do next.  If Zuko chose for his pride’s sake to forget what Iroh had said before leaving with Teiji, then Iroh would accept the pretense and carry on.  There were larger issues to deal with, after all; very large and complex issues indeed, some of which Zuko himself wasn’t even aware of yet.

 

Iroh had found by trial and error that the best tactic for keeping little Teiji quiet had been to set the baby inside a ring composed of nearly all the toys Iroh had bought for him, and then skillfully dance one of the marionette dolls around just outside the ring and Teiji’s reach.  Teiji had been fascinated by the dancing dolls, and by the wind-up walking ostrich-horse as well; they distracted him from his misery for at least a few minutes at a time, which Iroh figured was the best he could hope for right now.  And a few times that morning Teiji had even let Iroh hug and cuddle him for a short while before he started fussing again; since the fussing tended to include yanking hard on fistfuls of Iroh’s own beard and hair, he would regretfully set the boy down amidst the toys again.

 

But finally, around noon and the time for the funeral, Iroh put away all but a few of the softest toys and settled Teiji in his bed, tucking the sheets firmly around him to keep him there, and just let the child cry himself to sleep.  It had been early for a nap, but an overtired child would be even more difficult to deal with, and it could well be that more sleep than usual was still warranted for Teiji after his travails in the woods only a few days ago.

 

Some time after Teiji’s cries and squalls had finally died to whimpers and then silence, Zuko knocked very quietly on the door and then let himself in. And as soon as the door was closed behind him, he all but fell to the deck in a full kowtow, so deep and fast that his proud phoenix plume flopped over to lay in the dust in front of him.

 

Iroh hadn’t been expecting that of his prideful nephew, and he hurried over to him while whispering for fear of waking Teiji, “Nephew, don’t do that!”

 

Zuko’s muffled voice floated up from the deckplates, misery in every syllable.  “I can’t commit hara-kiri. Teiji would think someone else has abandoned him.”

 

“Do not even _suggest_ such an act!” Iroh scolded him in his very fiercest whisper as he reached down and bodily hauled Zuko to his feet.  “To throw your life away like that, would rip my poor heart to shreds again!” He hugged Zuko close—and this time, Zuko just let him do it—as he murmured, “Zuko.  Perhaps I have not said it outright before, but… I have come to see you as a second son.  Part of my heart, just as… just as Lu Ten was, and always will be.”

 

And finally, after many long years of refusing or just barely tolerating hugs from him, Zuko _hugged him back_ while saying just as quietly, “I know.  And I… I’m so, so sorry for treating you so horribly, for so long!  I was just… No, there’s no excuse for what I’ve done; I should always have known better!” Zuko pulled back just enough to look him in the face, tears tricking down from the corners of his mismatched eyes, as he said hoarsely, “How can I make it up to you?”

 

There were so many ways Iroh would have liked to answer that question, and so many reasons he dared not:

 

 _Renounce your terrible father_.  No, Zuko was not ready to do that; not when he still had not accepted the truth about Ozai.  Not when he still thought his father had been forced by their nation’s traditions to challenge him in an Agni Kai, and forced to burn and banish him as well.  And not when the men who crewed Zuko’s ship were loyal to the Fire Lord as well; the merest rumor of treason on either his or Zuko’s part would bring the entire Fire Nation fleet down hard around their ears.

 

 _Stop hunting the Avatar, and join him in ending the war instead, to restore balance to the world_.  Again, no, for all the same reasons. 

 

 _Let me teach you pai sho_.  That was doable, and would be the very first step in preparing him to be a White Lotus member much later on… but regrettably, now was not the best time.  Zuko would have enough trials of patience in the very near future, after being thrust so abruptly into parenthood; now was not the time to try to teach him a game that required patience and strategy, with Teiji underfoot and distracting them every other second.

 

But there was still one form of penance he could suggest to Zuko, and he did so with a wry smile.  “You can make my life easier… by giving compliments to your crew.”

 

Zuko only blinked at him in honest puzzlement.  “Huh?”

 

Since the teenager seemed to be expecting his uncle to despise him for the years of verbal abuse, Iroh assumed just enough of an impatient and reproving air to ensure his full attention. “Zuko.  Surely you have noticed that I spend a great deal of time with the crew; playing pai sho with them, eating with them, drinking tea with them, and playing music with them on Music Night.  Did it never once occur to you that I was not doing so for my own benefit, but yours?”

 

“Huh?” Zuko said again.  Followed by him saying slowly and with furrowed brow, “Are you saying… you don’t actually _like_ tea and pai sho and singing and drinking in port and all that nonsense?”

 

“Quite the contrary; I enjoy it all, very much!  But I would honestly prefer _not_ to overindulge as much as I have in recent years.” Iroh looked down at his vast belly and sighed, “I used to be a great deal slimmer, you know; never _slender_ , understand, I’ve always had a sturdy figure, but I was still quite a bit more dashing in my uniform than I am now.”

 

Zuko blinked at him a few times before saying in bald honesty, “I’m confused.  What does your gaining so much weight have to do with my complimenting the crew?”

 

“For starters, every meal we’ve had together in which I gave my compliments to the cook and asked for seconds--or even thirds!--was a meal in which you just ate your food and said nothing, or compared it scornfully to the delicacies we used to feast on at the palace.” Iroh sighed again.  “I started doing that soon after we came aboard, and now my overindulgence in food has become so well-known and ingrained that the cook’s assistant always brings me a double portion, and if I don’t eat all of it, the cook will fret for hours if not days about what he did wrong with that meal.”

 

Zuko rubbed his chin in hard thought.  “Sooo… you overeat all the time… because it makes the cook happy?”

 

“Yes!” as Iroh gave an emphatic nod, and a smile at his nephew for figuring it out.

 

“But why do you care whether he’s happy or not?  We both know he’s aboard this ship as a punishment detail! It’s right there in his record; he was transferred off the _Subuzon_ after he got so angry over some officer’s insult of his cooking that he deliberately burned the entire crew’s dinner!” Then Zuko blinked a few more times before saying, “I just answered my own question, didn’t I?”

 

“Yes, you did,” Iroh said with an even more emphatic nod.  “Zuko, I waged war in the Earth Kingdom for nearly forty years altogether… but since we boarded this ship, my primary role has been that of _peacemaker_.  When the crew is upset with the way you treat them, I come along and do what I can to make them happy again, or at least less discontented with their lot, and prevent another mutiny from occurring.”

 

“So… you want me to _be nice_ to them, so you don’t have to?”  Zuko seemed to sag under a heavy burden, and Iroh sat down with him as Zuko looked up with something like despair on his face.  “But, Uncle…”

 

“I know it will not be easy for you, nephew,” Iroh said gravely.  “I have heard some of the things they have said about you, and I know too well how sharp your ears are; that you have heard their insults too.  It will be extremely hard for you to put aside all those hurtful and cruel words you’ve heard, in order to treat them fairly, but I know you can do it; I have faith in you.”

 

“It’s not just that, Uncle!” Zuko protested.  “It’s not just how I feel about them; I-I can’t just _lie_ , and say good things about bad people!  And don’t try to tell me they’re not; we’ve both seen their service records!”

 

His poor, young nephew, still so convinced that everything in the world was written in black and white… they really should have had this discussion long ago, but Zuko had never been ready to listen before now.  Iroh said firmly, “Zuko, those service records rarely tell the whole story.  Yes, there are some members of this crew that really do belong in the brig, and rest assured that the lieutenant and I keep a close eye on them.  But others are here for lesser offenses that were the result of flaws in _judgment_ , not flaws in _character_.  Flaws in judgment are corrected by experience; experience those men have now, so they would not make the same mistake again if faced with those situations.  And there are a few on board who are here precisely _because_ they are good and decent men.”

 

“Really?” Zuko was openly skeptical. “How so?”

 

“Corporal Taozu is an excellent example.  What’s in his service record?  Honorable and meritorious conduct in the Battle of Haiza and two other campaigns, before he was summarily brought before his captain on charges, but transferred here instead of standing on trial.  What were the charges?”

 

“Striking an officer,” Zuko said immediately.  “Knocking out Lieutenant Fuka.”

 

“Yes.  And do you know what Lieutenant Fuka was about to do when Taozu came upon him and knocked him unconscious?  _I_ do; it was all hushed up, because the lieutenant is the grandson of a general, but words still gets around in certain circles.  Lieutenant Fuka was prevented by Taozu from _raping an Earth Kingdom child_.”

 

It was impossible for Zuko’s scarred eye to open much wider, but his unscarred eye was as round as the full moon.  “He… he saved a child, he was doing the right thing, but he was _punished_ for it?”

 

“Yes, nephew.  Do you understand now?” Iroh wished with all his heart that Zuko would instantly draw the parallels between Taozu’s situation and his own, the first step in acknowledging Ozai’s cruelty and in severing the tyrant’s abusive grip on his soul…

 

But it was not to be; Iroh could already see it in his nephew’s expression.  Instead, Zuko’s thoughts were traveling down a different path: “So, if some of the crew are actually good, loyal and hardworking people despite what their service records say, but some are not… how will I know which are which?”

 

It was a real struggle for Iroh to _not_ roll his eyes.  But that really was a legitimate question for someone who’d never had to really make his own assessments of people, discerning the bad from the good in both skills and temperament, before his banishment. Zuko had grown up in the palace, where only the best of the best were allowed to serve; guards and servants who failed to perform their duties to perfection were usually dismissed by the majordomo long before their flaws became noticeable to the royal family.  

 

In truth, many of Zuko’s problems stemmed from having lived all his life behind the palace walls before being exiled; he had no real experience at all with people who were less than perfect, other than Zuko himself, and his abominable father had made it clear to him that ‘imperfect’ equaled ‘failure’.  Iroh should have tried harder to get the young boy to come with him on trips around the nation, to see the lesser nobles and the commoners who lived every day in imperfection but still found happiness…

 

But ‘should have’s over the past were doing nothing for either of them right now. Iroh answered his nephew, “By observing them.  By listening to what they say, not about you, but about each other.  By watching them at their work, and even at their rest and recreation, if you can do so subtly enough.  And when you see that they are doing well in their duties, _say so_ to their faces.  That is how you can make up your years of behavior to me, nephew; by striving to pay compliments to members of your crew on jobs well done, _at least_ _twice a day_ from now on.  Never _false_ compliments, because those do more harm than good in the long run, but true compliments that they have earned in the course of their duties.  And not just to the same hardworking members of the crew, over and over again; seek out ways in which even the more lackluster crew members may shine. Do so, and you may find that your crew will surprise you.”

 

Just then they were interrupted by Teiji squalling; Iroh realized that their voices had gradually risen to normal levels over their conversation, and they’d woken the baby up.  “Starting tomorrow,” Iroh concluded with a sigh, as Zuko bent down next to the bed to attempt to comfort Teiji, only to get smacked in the face with a stuffed rabbaroo toy.  It was going to be a long day and night for them both.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

That afternoon, Chun arrived back in Laosing a full day earlier than he would have gotten there by walking.  He thanked the boatman who’d found a bedraggled, weaponless and penniless soul trudging alongside the river and given him a lift, by **_not_** killing the man with his own knife and claiming the riverboat for Chun’s own use.  Instead, he rewarded himself for his mercy by going into the port’s best tavern and buying drinks with money from the purse he’d quietly stolen while the boatman had been tying up at the riverside docks. 

 

The bartender knew him from previous visits, and casually asked after two others of his crew who’d been in there with him two nights ago, wanting to know who’d won the bet about which of them could dance a hornpipe jig longer while balancing on a sail boom.  “Neither,” Chun said sourly.  “They’re both dead now; all the crew’s gone sailing to the Spirit World, save me.”

 

The words inspired instant silence in his immediate vicinity, and after eyeing him with surprise for a moment, the bartender slid him another cup of _baiju_ while saying, “A drink to wet your throat, if it dries while telling the tale."

 

Chun took the drink and the hint, and proceeded to tell... most of the story.  Part of it, anyway; the parts he'd already decided while traveling back to port that he could tell without becoming a laughingstock. 

 

Chun saw no reason to ruin his or his departed comrades' reputation by admitting that they honestly hadn't realized that the little bald-headed, airbending monk they'd encountered was the Avatar, when they'd heard the same gossip that everyone else had. The whole world knew by now that the Avatar had returned after a hundred years, as an airbending monk-child!  But no one on the crew would ever have thought that someone so naive and pint-sized and--and _silly_ , could also be the most powerful creature in the world.

 

Chun wasn't also about to admit that their ship had been stolen right out from under their noses, while fighting the Fire Nation troops.  If anyone heard that, the jeers and laughter at the crew's expense would follow them all the way to the Spirit World, and Chun could kiss the pirate life goodbye forever; word of their outright stupidity would probably spread clear to the Fire Nation and both the Water Tribes, and he'd never be able live it down or get hired on again.

 

So, he omitted some truths, and stretched out a few more to cover the gaps.  "We'd gone up the River Gwan in search of plunder, following a rumor we’d heard of rare bending scrolls being hidden somewhere upriver; there’s a collector of such things in Ba Sing Se who’ll buy them at grand prices with no questions asked.  But along the way, we ran into one of those twin-hulled Fire Nation river craft, just lying there grounded on the riverbank with what looked like nobody aboard, or anywhere near it!  Well, being no lovers of those Fire Nation conquerors, we decided to take the opportunity offering itself to us, and loot it of everything those cursed firebenders might have stolen from good Earth Kingdom folks before scuttling and sinking it.”

 

Growls of approval rumbled throughout the bar—after quick looks around to make sure that no one wearing Fire Nation colors was listening.  Laosing was a neutral port, after all.

 

“We beached right beside it and went aboard to loot and scuttle, figuring we’d be on our way again in just a few minutes. But it turned out the Fire Nation had left one man aboard that boat; a spearman, who must have thought he was the finest warrior his nation had ever spawned, because the damn fool stood there on the deck and tried to fend off our entire crew instead of jumping off the far side!  We made right quick work of him, but his comrades must have been close by in the woods, because they heard his death scream and came running before we could even get to looting.  There must have been fifty firebenders, and a hundred more spearmen and swordsmen among them; we fought them all and they paid dearly for attacking us, but--”

 

But Chun’s tale was interrupted by a rude noise from another bar patron, who went on to jeer, “Tell us another one, mate!  I’ve seen those river skiffs the Fire Nation uses for shallow-water missions; they hold maybe ten men, twelve at the most!”

 

Chun glared at the heckler, but the scars and tattoos on the man suggested that he might be as tough as Chun himself and not apt to back down when threatened, unless he had weapons handy to back up the threats. He berated himself for not going to a weapons shop and replacing his lost cutlass with the stolen cash before hitting the tavern. Rather than make empty threats and risk more scorn if he couldn’t back them up, he grudgingly admitted, “Aye, there were only twelve in the crew.  But their captain fought like fifty of them!  He’s a vicious demon-spawn, that one; got a terrible burn scar on the left side of his face,” as he covered his left eye and swept backwards from there to show the range of the scar, “and damned if he doesn’t shave off most of his hair, to show it off better! 

 

“His body is that of a youth who’s not reached his full measure yet, and when we first started fighting, he seemed like he’d be an easy foe; our captain blade-danced with him for a bit, and he didn’t go for any killing blows that I could see.  But then we found out he was just playing with us, like a pygmy-puma playing with a cricket-mouse; when he decided to stop playing… May I never drink again if he didn’t kill _four of our men with one blast_!  And after he snatched Taro’s swords from his corpse, they turned into _demon-blades_ in his grip, with hellfire running down them!  I sprung at him to avenge my fallen brethren, but just as he kicked away the corpse of the man he’d just beheaded; what was left of poor Yama hit me and knocked me overboard, and the River Gwan swept me away.  Sil Jon’s doing, no doubt, to get one of his more devoted followers away from that demon-spawn.  By the time I’d struggled out of the current to shore, everyone else in my crew was dead and our ship had been sent over the falls, to be smashed to kindling.”

 

“That’s quite a story,” the bartender said with a carefully neutral expression, as Chun picked up his baiju and took a long swallow to indicate he was done with the telling.

 

“Quite a story indeed,” another man said, though not the scarred and tattooed heckler from before; this one had a koto slung across his back, marking him as a traveling musician.  “But are you sure there isn’t more to tell?”

 

Chun eyed him sourly.  “They’re all dead and gone to the Spirit World, and our good ship with them; what more is there to tell?”

 

The musician gave a knowing and somewhat derisive smile. “Well, I remember a rather interesting incident on the docks yesterday…”

 

Chun glared at the new heckler, knowing what the man must be referring to; when the crew had chased those cursed kids all over the docks that morning, trying to get back the waterbending scroll they’d stolen.  But damned if he was going to admit that batch of brats had gotten the better of them even once, let alone twice! 

 

So he growled, “Listen, stranger, there ain’t a port anywhere on this coastline that won’t tell you that the crew of the _Leopard-Shark_ was the most dangerous batch of pirates that ever sailed the seas!  We plundered any booty we pleased, from pearls to _people_ , and slaughtered anyone foolish enough to stand in our way!  But that Captain Zuko and his crew are even more dangerous; the captain alone killed over a dozen of us in less time than it takes to tell of it!  That scarred and head-shaven demon-spawn is responsible for the death of the _Leopard-Shark_ and all her crew, and that’s the honest truth!  If I’m lying about that, may Sil Jon take my face with his blade and throw it to Koh for a doggy-treat!”

 

“I believe him,” the bartender declared abruptly, pushing another drink his way.  “No true pirate will forswear himself when invoking Sil Jon.  Here, have another, Chun, so you can toast the passing of the _Leopard-Shark_.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Reijin the traveling koto player settled back in his chair as the pirate picked up his drink and toasted the souls of his old ship, while glaring straight at him in challenge. He made a show of scooting away a few inches, to make it plain he wasn’t looking for a fight, and decided to finish his drink quickly and go elsewhere.  He’d already gotten what he wanted from this bar, anyway; the inspiration for another song.

 

He’d seen ‘that scarred and head-shaven demon-spawn’ yesterday in port, a teenager wearing Fire Nation armor but with a baby in a sling across his chest, being followed by a soldier carrying a basket of baby things.  They had to be the same person; there couldn’t be two young men with the same type of facial scar and the same partially-shaved hairstyle in this region. 

 

Reijin had been born in the Fire Nation colony Yu Dao, of a Fire Nation father and an Earth Kingdom mother, and would likely be there still if he hadn’t run into some trouble with the governor a few years back, over the man’s lovely daughter. (Really, as if it was Reijin’s fault that the girl liked koto music so much!  And it wasn’t like he’d actually gotten her pregnant, he was always more careful than that…) The skin tone and eyes he’d inherited from his mother let him pass for a full-blooded native of the Earth Kingdom, but he didn’t have their habitual fear and hatred of anything Fire Nation, so he didn’t go out of his way to avoid their troops.

 

That scarred Fire Nation teen had been anything but friendly with strangers, glaring at anyone who came too close to him, but the baby in the sling had clearly been happy to be there, waving a teething toy about while alternately giggling and babbling nonsense.  Highly intrigued by the unusual pair, Reijin had edged close enough to hear the teenager, evidently a ship’s captain, confide to his soldier that he was so new to child-rearing that he’d take any advice the man would offer him.  Then, though Reijin had been sure he’d uttered no sound, the teen had whipped around to glare right at him in a clear warning to back off.  Reijin had done so immediately, but for the rest of the day he’d wondered not just how that young man had been scarred, but how he’d become a parent so abruptly.

 

But now he knew the answer to at least one question.  That pirate had just admitted that his ship’s plunder had included people; the crew had been slave-traders.  More than likely the trip upriver had been a few days ago, and actually for the purpose of taking slaves from the less wary villages residing inland; young women and children sold for high prices in some obscene markets.  There must have been a woman with a baby aboard their ship, taken in one of the raids, but the mother had died while Captain Zuko and his men had still been battling the pirates in order to free her.  Since he hadn’t been able to save the mother, the young captain had decided to raise the baby as his own. 

 

Saved from mortal peril as a child, and adopted by warriors that were strange to his own people; why, that was how spirit-tale heroes were made!  As Reijin left the bar, his fingers were absently strumming thin air as his mind plucked out the _koto_ chords for his next ballad; heroes were great inspiration for ballads. But it would be many years before the baby grew up to fulfill his heroic destiny; it would better to focus this ballad on his rescuer, Captain Zuko.  Reijin already had a title for his next ballad: _The Scarred Savior_ …

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The next morning aboard the Wani, Lieutenant Jee brought the hawk-message he’d just received to the royals’ quarters, while they were still eating breakfast.  At dinnertime last night General Iroh had shown up in the mess hall to ask the cook’s assistant to bring trays to the private dining room that Zuko had always eaten in before Teiji’s arrival, explaining loudly enough for all to hear that little Teiji was still fussy and misbehaving and they did not want his continual squalling to disrupt everyone’s dinners. 

 

The general had explained his theory about the baby having finally decided it was safe to grieve over his dead mother, and unfortunately expressing that grief as anger, which he was showing to everyone but directing mainly at Prince Zuko.  No one had dared comment on that in the general’s presence, but after he’d left the entire crew had agreed that it was _about damn time_ the prince learned what it was like to have to put up with somebody else’s bad temper.

 

Jee knocked on the door to the private dining room and requested permission to enter.  Prince Zuko growled for him to stay out, but General called out even louder for him to come in; Jee shrugged to himself and then opened the door.  He entered to find the prince and the general in their informal dressing robes, the baby in the general’s lap, and all three of them spattered with baby food. Zuko had been holding a bowl and spoon while Iroh held the fussing and uncooperative Teiji, and as Zuko turned his attention from the baby and leveled a glare of pure exasperation on Jee for entering when he’d said not to, Teiji’s foot lashed out and hit the bowl on the underside, sending the contents flying—and Zuko ended up with still-warm congee splattered all over his scalp and dripping from his phoenix-plume.

 

In the seconds of dead silence that followed, Jee found out that it was indeed possible to hurt yourself from holding in bellows of laughter. 

 

Zuko finally growled, “ _Lieutenant, **you see nothing!**_ ”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jee finally managed in strangled tones.  Oh Agni, his gut was starting to ache from strain and his lip was bleeding from biting down so hard, but it was so worth it!  This was the funniest thing he’d seen in _years_ ; not since that time Commander Zhao, who’d been just Lieutenant Zhao back then but already an incurable arsehole, had gotten on the bad side of the base washerwoman and discovered all his uniforms dyed a lovely shade of lavender…

 

“I think we’ve gotten enough food into him for now,” Iroh said hurriedly while standing up with Teiji.  “I’ll just go get him cleaned up, nephew, so you can deal with ship’s business.”

 

The general left with the baby, and by the time Zuko had grabbed a cloth napkin and wiped most of the congee off his head, Jee had composed himself enough to speak normally while proffering the message he’d carried in with him.  “We received a hawk from the _Unyo_ , sir. They’re in the area, ready to rendezvous with us for mail delivery and pickup.”  This was great news for the crew, as they hadn’t had any mail delivered to them in nearly three months; the prince’s mission to capture the Avatar frequently took them far out of the Fire Nation’s swift and dedicated mail fleet’s theater of operations.  “If we head north-northeast, we can meet up with them before noon tomorrow.”

 

The prince nodded curtly in acknowledgment, then ordered, “Send a return message of our intentions and set a course to intercept.”

 

“Yes, sir.”  Jee took a deep breath, then continued, “Requesting permission to tell certain crewmembers that their mail will be examined before it’s handed over to the _Unyo_.”

 

That got Prince Zuko to stop straining food out of his phoenix plume and look at him sharply; normally a crewman’s mail was considered private, and that privacy was breached only in very serious situations, such as suspected treason.  “Why?”

 

“Certain members of the crew are still convinced Teiji is a witch-child, sir.  We don’t want them writing home and spreading the worst sort of rumors about your new son before his adoption is even made official.  Hopefully, sir, just being told their mail will be examined by you will prevent them from writing such letters and eliminate the need for censorship.”

 

Prince Zuko scowled, though the scowl wasn’t directed at Jee, more at the universe at large.  “Permission granted.  Which crewmembers?”

 

“Tadao, Cheung and Shoda, sir.” Jee added urgently, “Sir, they’re all good crewmembers, and not planning anything against you or your son; they just believe too strongly in the old spirit-tales their honored elders and ancestors told them.  Given time, they should accept Teiji as a normal child but with mismatched eyes, just as the rest of the crew already does.”

 

Still scowling, the prince muttered, “Add Jiro to that list; he said plainly while we were on the mission that he’s sure Teiji is spirit-touched.  Even if he meant it in a good way, I don’t want that sort of talk about my son spreading back home.”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll make it a friendly word of caution for him, sir.”  But Jee just stood there instead of leaving the cabin to carry out the orders given, and finally asked, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”  The prince eyed him warily, but granted permission, so Jee forged ahead, “The entire crew is impressed with your decision to nominate poor Hūn for the Order of the Crimson Banner.  But why didn’t you mention your intentions at the funeral?”

 

  1. Jee had wondered if the prince would say he hadn’t wanted to get anyone’s hopes up—a nomination for the award was not a guarantee that it would actually be awarded—or if he would admit that he hadn’t thought of nominating Hūn until after the funeral. Jee also still had the nasty but nagging thought that, despite what he’d said to the crew about the paperwork being in the prince’s handwriting, the general had been the one to come up with the idea instead, and Prince Zuko secretly didn’t think Hūn deserved it.   



 

But despite those thoughts, Jee wasn’t expecting the prince’s reaction, which was to look at him in clear puzzlement with a “How could I?  There was no appropriate time for it.”

 

“…Sir?  It was Hūn’s eulogy; I honestly can’t think of a _more_ appropriate time for it.”

 

“But there’s no place for it in the ritual!  Look, I’ll show you,” as the teenaged royal all but dragged Jee back to his cabin, got the officers’ manual for ceremonies and rituals down off a shelf, and found the section on funerals.  “See?” as he pointed out the words of ceremony that Jee had probably learned by heart before the prince had even been _born_.  “The deceased’s name, parentage, home of record and date of birth go _here_ ; tours of duty and honors earned while still alive go _here_ ; and what they died of goes _here_.  Then it’s ‘and will be missed by all.  We will honor his memory always, as we honor his remains today and send his spirit home to Agni’s warm embrace.’  There are no spaces available in those last words to mention receiving _posthumous_ honors!”

 

Jee stared at the prince incredulously.  “Sir, you don’t have to just follow the script exactly for these ceremonies! You can’t take any words out when you personalize them, but you can certainly add more in!”

 

Now it was the prince’s turn to stare, in utter shock.  “You can?”  And the shock became tinged with _hurt_ , as if the prince had just found out that Jee had been keeping secrets from him.  “No one told me that was allowed…”

 

“No one told you?!  It was practically _drilled into our heads_ by the instructor in the class on conducting ceremonies that we had in officer training…” Jee’s voice trailed off, as it was his turn to stare in shock.  “Training you never _had_ , did you, sir?”

 

Jee wanted to kick himself hard, for not realizing it a long time ago.  _Of course_ the prince hadn’t received officer training; he’d come aboard when he was only thirteen, and the very youngest age for teens to be eligible as cadets in officer training was fourteen.  Prince Zuko had been given a ship to captain without any military leadership training at all; no wonder he was so terrible at it!  There had always been his uncle the general to ask for advice and wisdom, but Jee knew damn well that the prince _almost never listened_ _to his uncle_ from the very first day they’d come aboard.

 

Jee was jolted from the shock of belated comprehension by the fierceness of Prince Zuko’s defensive glare; if it were any hotter, the lieutenant’s crewcut would be on fire already.  The prince snarled, “Are you _done now, Lieutenant_?  Don’t you have a message to send, and orders to carry out?”

 

“Yes, sir!” Jee said hastily, as he beat a retreat out of the cabin.  Now was _not_ the time to embarrass the prince by pointing out his shortcomings, not after the congee incident; Jee admittedly had his flaws but he also had principles, and they included not kicking a man when he was down. 

 

There had been one more thing Jee had been going to say while still speaking freely, but it would keep, and perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary after all.  If the prince just looked in a mirror, surely he’d notice on his own that he still had some streaks of dried congee around his scarred ear.

 

Except Prince Zuko always kept his mirror covered up…  
  


00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Iroh spent over five hours that day minding Teiji, so Zuko could concentrate on writing what might be the most important letter of his life so far; explaining his adoption of an Earth Kingdom child to his father the Fire Lord. Judging by the fact that he heard Zuko step out of his cabin next door to bark at passing crewmen that he wanted a fresh supply of papers and ink from the quartermaster— _twice_ —the prince was having difficulties with getting the wording right.

 

 After putting Teiji down for his nap, and after the child had _finally_ gone to sleep, Iroh went next door to see how Zuko was progressing in his task.  The cabin porthole was open, but the scent of smoke still lingered in the air, and the heap of ashes in the wastebasket indicated that many rough drafts had been written and discarded already; a few crumpled bits of paper that hadn’t been burned yet still littered the desktop.

 

His nephew looked up from the desk to regard him with a smudge of ink on his nose, but a weary smile of not-quite-satisfaction.  “I think I’ve finally got the wording right; see what you think,” as he handed over a sheet of paper.

 

Iroh schooled his features to stillness as a precaution; an old habit he’d acquired after years of receiving letters at the warfront that had been from the capital, with overanxious subordinates in the tent with him.  Whether the news was good or bad, the subordinates would glean nothing from his features until he was ready to tell them. Then he began reading Zuko’s letter to his father.

 

The salutation was good, using all of Ozai’s appropriate titles and honorifics; the opening words of greeting from his son and hopes for his continued health and longevity were also appropriate.  Iroh was abruptly reminded of that letter from Lu Ten that had started in similar fashion, a few years before the siege at Ba Sing Se.  All the buttering-up that had preceded Lu Ten’s admission that he had accidentally crashed and wrecked the prototype tank that War Minister Qin had sent for his division’s use…

 

Then came the reason for Zuko’s letter; the news that he had rescued and adopted an Earth Kingdom peasant child.  Zuko made no mention at all of the kirin spirit, which was sensible of him; Ozai had absolutely no patience for spiritual matters.  Instead, after relaying what the village headman had said about the baby with eyes of different colors, Zuko said that Teiji’s very existence illustrated the _need_ for the Fire Nation to rule the world, so they could stamp out the superstitious practices in other nations that call for the deaths of innocent children.

 

It was just as well that Iroh had already schooled his features to stillness, because otherwise he would have cried out in dismay.  After three years of seeing what the Fire Nation was doing to the rest of the world, Zuko still believed their conquest was _right_ and good for all concerned?  But then Iroh remembered that Zuko had seen first-hand that the superstition about witch-children was prevalent in the Fire Nation as well.  So it was possible that Zuko was just saying things he thought Ozai preferred to hear.

 

Zuko also spent several sentences reassuring his father than he had no intention of putting Teiji in the line of succession for the throne, and that so far as the Fire Sages were concerned, Teiji would be his ward instead of his son.  Then he pointed out that there may well be advantages for the Fire Nation in the adoption; when the citizens of the Earth Kingdom learned that a child of their country had been adopted by the crown prince and walked the palace hallways without fear, perhaps they would understand that after being conquered they would be treated fairly, and they would stop all those troublesome rebellions. 

 

 _‘Troublesome’ rebellions, indeed_ , Iroh thought darkly, thinking of all the lives lost on both sides when guerilla tactics were deployed against occupying forces.  Then he returned to the letter, but there wasn’t much more left to read, and all that remained were words similar to the ones Zuko had been writing in letters to his father for months already.  Zuko wrote about how he continued to hunt the Avatar, and had very nearly captured him in an encounter two days ago; with each encounter he learned more about the Avatar’s current abilities and strategies, and soon he would capture the Avatar with a foolproof plan, and drag him home to the Fire Nation in chains. In closing, your son, et cetera.

 

Iroh finally handed the paper back with an encouraging smile.  “Very well written, Prince Zuko.  You make excellent arguments in favor of Teiji being raised as your ward, that I doubt even a Fire Sage could find fault with.”  Zuko looked very relieved, as he rolled the letter into a scroll and put his personal seal on it.  Iroh was silently glad that Zuko did not ask how the _Fire Lord_ would receive the news, though, because Ozai was certainly no Fire Sage. 

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

That evening down in the cargo hold, Tadao worked with two other crewmen, all of them hull maintainers who were well experienced in sanding and painting, under the supervision of Taro the quartermaster as they worked on a crib for the witch-child.  …For the _prince’s baby_ , Tadao resignedly corrected his own thoughts, still remembering the ‘talk’ Lieutenant Jee had had with him earlier. 

 

Lieutenant Jee had bluntly informed Tadao that thanks to his honest concerns—or, as the lieutenant had put it, his boneheaded superstitions and loose-flapping lips--his letters home were going to be examined and censored by the ship’s officers before being handed over to the mail ship tomorrow.  And if Jee ever heard Tadao referring to that ‘poor innocent orphaned baby under the prince’s care’ as a witch-child again, the lieutenant would consider such talk as _incitement to mutiny_ and Tadao would be punished accordingly.  Knowing exactly what sort of punishment the lieutenant had in mind, Tadao had swallowed hard and decided it would be a good idea to just keep his mouth shut for a while.

 

“There we go; smooth as the proverbial baby’s butt,” Tetsuko proclaimed, interrupting Tadao’s train of thought at she held a sanded-down length of wood out for the quartermaster’s inspection.  The quartermaster tested it by running the length right under his jawline, where the skin is thinnest and more sensitive than callused fingers would be, then agreed it was smooth enough for use.

 

The crib they were building was a far cry from the traditional cribs Tadao had seen back home, with fancy carving on the exterior done by professional woodworkers, or simple designs painted on by poor but still loving parents.  All those cribs had been made to be cribs right from the start, while this crib was being built out of a munitions packing crate.  The port of Laosing hadn’t had any cribs for sale—or at least hadn’t offered any for sale to Fire Nation troops, despite it being a neutral port—so the general had asked the crew to improvise.

 

The quartermaster had drawn out a basic design while they’d carefully dismantled the munitions crate and sanded off all the painted-on characters for what it had contained before. Then they’d spent long hours measuring, sawing, testing the pieces for proper fit, sawing a little more and then sanding, sanding and more sanding.  Tadao had wrapped thin strips of cloth around his fingertips to help with the blisters he could already feel forming there.

 

After all the pieces were sanded so smooth there was absolutely no chance of splinters coming off them to hurt a baby’s tender skin, they started assembling the crib in accordance with Taro’s sketch and instructions.  They were halfway finished when Tadao suddenly felt the heat of another firebender’s presence at his back, looked over his shoulder, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the prince looming over him.

 

“Prince Zuko!” Taro was equally shocked.  Everyone knew that sometimes the prince stopped shouting and stomping everywhere and went _silent_ , making no noise whatsoever as he all but vanished and reappeared in various places about the ship, but he did it so rarely that it freaked them out every time.  The flustered quartermaster began babbling about the crib they were making, apologizing that the design wasn’t up to royal standards, but it was the best they could do on such short notice and with the materials on hand.  “After we finish assembling, then we’ll seal and paint it, and while the paint is drying we’ll make the bedding with some fabric I’ve already pulled from storage for airing out.  It will be ready for the baby’s use and delivered to your quarters by tomorrow evening at the very latest, sir!”

 

The prince nodded curtly in acknowledgement of Taro’s words, while critically looking over the half-assembled crib. Tadao tried not to hunch in on himself as he waited for the inevitable royal tantrum about why wasn’t the crib finished already, what was taking so long, or about how shoddy the design was, or why the quartermaster was letting Tadao the ‘superstitious fool’ anywhere near something for the baby, or something else to do with honor or the Avatar or—

 

“Very smooth,” the prince commented while running his hand over the rail Tadao had been working on earlier.  “Good sanding.”

 

…Uh?

 

Then Prince Zuko left, as abruptly as he’d come in, leaving the crewmen blinking at each other.  Tetsuko asked for them all, “That _was_ the prince, right?”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko awoke at dawn the next morning, to find little Teiji still asleep in his arms.  The quartermaster had reported that the crib ready for use by nightfall that night, but when he saw the little boy sweetly sleeping in his arms, yesterday’s nonstop fussing and even the battle of wills to get him to bed now just memories, Zuko admitted to himself that he really didn’t mind having to share his bed with Teiji. It was… really nice, having someone cuddle up to him, even just for warmth.

 

But as the sun began climbing higher over the horizon, Teiji slowly stirred, his eyes opening.  Zuko sighed, halfway sitting up as he mentally braced himself for another hard day of parenting a fussy baby while running a ship.  But instead of his face immediately scrunching up for a round of squalling, as had happened yesterday morning, Teiji just looked at him… and gave him a sleepy smile.

 

“Hi there.  Is today going to be a good day, Teiji?  Have you decided to stop being angry at the world already?” Zuko whispered hopefully as he lay back down beside the baby, practically nose to nose.  Teiji’s sleepy smile only widened, and Zuko took it as a good sign.  Uncle had said that children adapted really quickly; maybe two days and nights were all it took when they were still just babies, and their new parents tried hard to be good to them even in the worst moments.  There had been many times in the last two days when Zuko had bitten back angry words at the baby who was making his life miserable, bitten them back so hard his lips had bled. But now he was glad he’d kept that iron hold on his temper, if that had helped Teiji feel better sooner.

 

Teiji reached out a tiny hand, and patted at Zuko’s chin.  The first time Teiji had done that, right after they’d found him, Zuko had jerked back from the contact. Other than a few attempted hugs from Uncle, no one had touched him in _years_ , not since Mom had—had _disappeared_. But when the baby had tried it again, a short while before they’d reached the ship, Zuko had sighed and let the baby touch the lower part of his face, feeling his chin and mouth.  And still later that day, when Teiji had insisted on sticking his fingers right in Zuko’s mouth, Zuko had pretended to nibble on them, to Teiji’s evident delight at the little game.

 

This morning they played the ‘eat-your-fingers’ game, as Zuko made little growls and informed Teiji, “I’m a komodo-rhino.  Mmm, tasty hay!  Munch munch munch.” Teiji giggled in response; such a sweet sound, better than the finest singing he’d ever heard from the court musicians back home.

 

Then Teiji pulled his fingers out of Zuko’s mouth, and reached further up his face... for his scar.

 

Zuko swallowed hard.  He’d never let _anyone_ touch the scar, not since the bandages had come off for good and Uncle had declared sorrowfully that they could do no more for it. But he held still, and let Teiji reach out and touch it; feel the leathery surface of the scar and how different it was from normal skin. 

 

“It feels weird and looks really ugly, I know, but… it’s just on my skin,” he whispered to Teiji.  “Inside, I’m just like everyone else… well, just like any other firebender.  In the same way that you’re just like any other baby, Teiji.  That’s why the kirin wanted me to raise you, I guess; so I can teach you that looking weird or even scary on the outside, doesn’t mean you’re bad or evil like in the spirit-tales.  I hope I’ll do a good job of raising you, Teiji; I promise that I’ll try my hardest, every day.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

At mid-morning, the fleet mail ship _Unyo_ was sighted on the horizon, while Iroh was up on the bridge with Zuko and Teiji.  The helmsman immediately began bringing the ship about, maneuvering to match their course, and the two ships’ signalmen began flashing the semaphore flags for communication as soon as they were within telescope range. 

 

As the mail ship drew nearer, Zuko took off Teiji’s sling and began to hand the baby over to Iroh, but he forestalled his nephew with a raised hand.  “Not this time, nephew; I will stand and wait with you instead, since my letter is not yet sealed.  Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to mind both Teiji and the bridge for us?”  Lieutenant Jee agreed with a nod and his arms out for the child, and in short order both Iroh and his nephew were descending to the deck, where a large sack and a small crate were waiting.

 

For the last two years and more, Lieutenant Jee had handled mail call, with Iroh’s unofficial assistance. Zuko usually avoided having anything to do with mail call; his uncle knew it was too painful for him to distribute the mail to the rest of the crew, when he never received any letters himself.  But not this time, when the mail to be handed over included a crate containing Hūn’s ashes and personal effects.  While any officer could receive the ship’s mail, it was an old tradition that personal effects were transferred from captain to captain until they were given in ceremony to the surviving family members of the deceased. Zuko had insisted that he would do his traditional duty, even before Iroh could remind him of it.

 

As they descended the ladder, they could hear Lieutenant Jee’s voice above them, directing the helmsman in continuing to match course and speed with the approaching _Unyo_.  And when they were halfway down the ladder and Jee’s voice considerably fainter, Iroh stopped climbing and said quietly, “Stop and listen, nephew.”

 

Zuko had been nearly to the deck by then, having descended the ladder with his usual reckless speed (though he was thankfully much, much slower while carrying Teiji in his sling.) But the ring of his boots against the ladder rungs instantly stopped; as Iroh had hoped, he was listening with those ever-sharp ears of his.  Iroh began descending again, slower than before as he said in a voice pitched only for his nephew to hear, “I heard a new rumor among the crew this morning.  Now some of them not only think Teiji is a witch-child, but a _shape-changer_ as well.  Fortunately, this is a rumor we can easily disprove.” 

 

Zuko tapped the ladder once sharply; Iroh took it for a wordless command to keep talking and explain himself. He quietly continued, “All we have to do is keep Teiji in a public area for a few hours, with a measure of salt next to him and a lit torch nearby.  No shape-changer can hold his shape for long in the presence of both salt and fire.  I know you normally avoid mail calls, but in the mess hall, where we always have salt on hand and torches ready to light, would be the ideal place and time to disprove this rumor.  Mail call normally lasts at least two hours; that would be more than enough time to prove he’s not a shape-changer and dispel the rumor before it can spread further, without actually having to say anything to the crew about it.”

 

He stopped talking as he drew near, and after a few moments the ring of booted feet against metal indicated that Zuko had started climbing down again.  When they were both on the deck a few moments later, Zuko gave him a nod and a significant frown; he wasn’t happy about Iroh’s proposed solution, but he’d do it all the same.  Just as Iroh had hoped, when he’d made up the rumor a short while ago.

 

As the ships came closer together, crewmen on the _Unyo_ ’s deck gave them friendly waves; when one of them spotted Zuko and the stenciled crate at his feet, he nudged a fellow crew member who nodded and left.  By the time the two ships were within boarding distance, Captain Sujin of the _Unyo_ was standing on their deck, ready to receive the crate.

 

The boarding planks were set out to make a wide walkway between the two ships, and Captain Sujin came across first.  “These are the personal effects of Private Hūn, who has journeyed on to the Spirit World,” Zuko said formally as he handed the crate over.  “Please see that they are returned to his family in Shu Jing province.”

 

“I shall ensure they are delivered,” Captain Sujin said with a formal bow as he accepted the crate.  Then he asked quietly, “How’d it happen?  Killed by the Avatar?”

 

Zuko shook his head and said tersely, “Pirates.”

 

“Pirates who will never attack anyone, ever again,” Iroh added quickly, with a suitably fierce grimace.  After reading the award recommendation that his nephew had drawn up yesterday, he’d gladly agreed to shade the truth for Hūn’s sake, and let others assume that they had suffered an utterly unprovoked attack, instead of their crewman’s death being largely the result of a deal that went sour. “Every last one of them is dead now, and their ship smashed to pieces.”

 

Captain Sujin gave a grim smile of approval. “Good job.”

 

“And this goes straight to the Board of Admirals in the capital,” Zuko said curtly as he handed over the sealed scroll containing his official recommendation for the Order of the Crimson Banner.

 

Captain Sujin accepted the scroll with a raised eyebrow as he asked, “A request for posthumous honors?”

 

Zuko nodded. “The Order of the Crimson Banner.”

 

Both of Captain Sujin’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline.  “The Crimson Banner?  But… isn’t this the same Hūn that served on the _Aoba_?  The entire fleet heard about what he did there, to the--”

 

Zuko’s face reddened as his features drew into a fierce scowl, but just as he opened his mouth to start shouting in one of his classic temper tantrums, Iroh snapped in a voice sharp enough to cut steel, “ _Captain Sujin_!” Startled, both Zuko and Sujin shut up and looked at him as he continued in a hard tone that only gradually softened, “The request for fleet honors is valid; before he died, Hūn committed an act of great heroism.  Prince Zuko’s scroll is sealed, as is proper, but my personal letter of endorsement has not been sealed yet,” as he pulled a scroll out of his sleeve and proffered it to the mail ship captain. “You may read the words of the Dragon of the West, all that I witnessed on the day of the battle, before I seal it for sending to the board of admirals as well.”

 

Captain Sujin accepted the scroll with a chastened expression, which pleased Iroh more than he wanted to admit; it was good to see that his reputation as a general still held strong among not just the troops of the army, but among the ships of the fleet as well.  Before reading the scroll, Sujin turned and gestured wordlessly to his crewmen, who stepped onto the walkway of planks with a large sack of mail for the _Wani_.

 

Zuko accepted and signed for the sack of mail received, while Sujin read Iroh’s account of the battle.  When he’d found out yesterday that Zuko had decided all on his own that Hūn deserved a posthumous award for his heroism, Iroh had been utterly delighted.  Finally, his nephew was showing signs of really caring about his crew, for everyone to see!  But he also knew how low his nephew’s reputation had sunk back home, thanks to that cursed Agni Kai that Ozai had maneuvered him into and what Ozai had done and declared afterwards. 

 

Iroh was sure his own reputation had been tarnished by now as well, by officers and nobles seeking to curry favor with Ozai, but there were still many people who remembered him and honored him as the Dragon of the West.  Having officially retired his command and aboard only as an unofficial advisor, Iroh’s signature did not belong on the award recommendation itself.  But he was sure that his personal letter of endorsement would carry enough weight with the board of admirals that, instead of dismissing the banished prince’s request outright, they’d see fit to grant some lesser award. Probably the Order of the Mongoose-Lizard, but they might be impressed enough to award the Tiger-Dillo instead.

 

Captain Sujin’s eyebrows rose high again while reading what Iroh had written, but not in a look of incredulity this time.  When he finished reading, he rolled the scroll up and handed it back to Iroh, saying simply, “I do not doubt the word of the Dragon of the West.” Then he turned to Zuko and said with a respectful bow, “Very impressive, your highness.”

 

Zuko looked startled and uncertain, at praise he clearly hadn’t been expecting just then, but he still remembered his manners enough to bow back while murmuring, “Thank you?”

 

Iroh smiled serenely, thankful that Captain Sujin hadn’t articulated exactly what he’d found so impressive; likely not Private Hūn’s heroic but ultimately ineffective attempt to keep the pirates from boarding, but Prince Zuko’s savage and entirely effective attack on them afterwards. 

 

Iroh’s personal letter of endorsement had been worded just as carefully as Zuko’s more official letter. He detracted not one whit of honor and glory from Hūn’s actions, and indeed went into more detail about Hun’s part in the battle than Zuko had, describing the techniques he had seen Hūn use to hold the pirates at bay.  While not one single word was a lie, Iroh had crafted every nuance he could wring out of words on a page to make it seem like Hūn had heroically managed to hold the pirates off for several minutes, as the away team had raced from deep in the woods back to the river, instead of mere seconds.  He even implied that Hūn had killed the pirate captain instead of Taozu, by stating that the pirate captain had fallen by the time they’d arrived back at the river steamer.

 

And after describing Hūn’s part in the battle, he’d used equally great care and detail to describe Prince Zuko’s attack and the aftermath.  He wrote of how the prince had been at the forefront of the charge back to the boat, and indeed reached the river vessel several steps ahead of his crew. He described every firebending move he had seen his nephew use, though he deliberately left out all mention of the swordfighting; he knew that the admirals, most of them firebenders, would scorn any firebender’s use of steel instead of flame. And naturally, he left out how Zuko had ended up feeding the fishies, like nearly every other 16-year-old boy/man after his first kill.  But Iroh made it quite clear that that prince had killed every pirate within seconds, even before the rest of his crew could come aboard to join the battle… while not mentioning that they’d honestly feared to approach while Zuko was clearly in the grips of a berserker fury over the threat to the baby, possibly unable to tell friend from foe.

 

Then he explained why Prince Zuko had made no mention of his own part in the battle, in the posthumous awards request: _As always, Prince Zuko seeks no honors for himself, save that which only his father can bestow on him._   Quite true, while sounding far more noble than talking about his nephew’s utter obsession with capturing the Avatar  And it implied that this wasn’t the first time Zuko had performed great feats in battle against the Fire Nation’s enemies and won the day for their cause.

 

Ozai had publicly scorned his own son as weak and cowardly, as every high-ranking officer in the military knew.  But when the admirals read that letter, with his closing statement that _I swear upon my honor and reputation as the Dragon of the West that every word I have written is true_ , those admirals could decide for themselves whether the banished prince, after displaying such bravery and prowess in battle, had ever deserved such scorn. 

 

Iroh sealed his letter of endorsement with melted wax and handed the scroll back to Captain Sujin, who took it with Zuko’s scroll and Hūn’s personal effects over the walkway to the _Unyo_.  Sujin’s crewmen followed him across, carrying the Wani’s outgoing mail.  After the boarding planks were removed and stowed, while the ships began moving apart, Zuko turned to the deck handlers and said abruptly, “You were efficient in both coupling and decoupling our ship from theirs. Good job.”

 

Cheung was so startled by the praise he nearly tripped over his own feet while staring at the prince, but Zuko had already turned towards the ladder to the bridge.  Iroh beamed at his retreating back, pleased beyond words that Zuko was actively seeking out things he could legitimately compliment his crew on, praising them for good performance, which would encourage even better performance in the future.  He’d turn that boy into a true leader of men yet!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko made a point of complimenting the helmsman on his smooth handling of the ship during the rendezvous—there, that made two today—before taking both Teiji and the supplies bag back from Lieutenant Jee. He firmly ignored both Jiro and Jee’s stares, automatically telling himself that no stare could ever hurt him (the same mantra he’d been using for nearly three years now, since beginning his exile) and went back down the ladder to rejoin Uncle.  After giving the helmsman the usual order to keep a steady course and alert them via either the ship’s bell or whistle if there was any change in the situation, Jee followed him down the ladder, and went with him and his uncle to the mess hall.

 

From the sounds of the hubbub ahead, nearly the entire crew was waiting for them in the mess hall; of course they never missed a mail call, unless they were on an essential duty like the minding the helm or the engine room.  Normally Zuko would be in his room right now reading scrolls about past Avatars, or down in the beast-hold with the komodo-rhinos for company, or out on deck after the mail ship was out of sight, practicing his firebending; _anywhere_ but in here. Today he’d been planning on spending the hours with Teiji, now that the baby was in a good mood again; tickling him and pretending to make his toys talk and play together, and generally just having fun with his son. But _nooo_ , instead he was going to be stuck in there the whole time, undergoing emotional slow torture… Stupid crewmen with their stupid superstitions and stupid rumors!

 

As soon as he was through the door of the mess hall, Zuko immediately headed to the right instead of the center of the room, aiming for the side cupboards where he knew they kept common spices for crewmen to season their meals with.  He grabbed a container of salt from the cupboard, then went to the side table near a wall sconce, and glared at the two men sitting there until they got up and found new seats for themselves. 

 

He set the salt container down in plain sight with the lid off, and sat down with Teiji almost right under the sconce, setting the torch alight with a flicked finger and flicker of will.  There, fire and salt; the classic defenses against mischievous spirits. Now everybody would be able to see for themselves that his son was no shape-changer, and perfectly normal except for his mismatched eyes.  That is, if they even looked his way, in the back of the room; right now everyone was focused up front.

 

When Uncle Iroh had come in with the sack, there had been an abrupt excited increase in noise, crewmen murmuring and jostling each other.  But now there was a hush of anticipation, as the retired general and Lieutenant Jee stood together near the front of the room, with the mail sack on the table in front of them.

 

The crew seemed to be holding their breaths as Iroh and Jee made a big show of looking over the mail sack’s official seal, checking to be sure it was intact, then nodding to each other. Iroh took out a knife and cut through the wax, breaking the seal so the drawstrings could be opened; then he and Jee tugged the sack open together.  The sack held dozens of scrolls, and a few small boxes; the general pulled out the first scroll, reading the name written on the end, and then announced, “Corporal Taozu!”

 

“Here!” Taozu said as he jumped to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. He accepted the scroll and went back to his seat as other crewmen congratulated him on getting the first scroll, and someone else asked him who it was from.

 

Lieutenant Jee pulled out the next scroll, looked it over, then announced, “Sergeant Goro!”

 

“Here!” the sergeant said as he jumped to his feet and came forward; normally he was a dour-looking man, but right now he was grinning just as widely as Taozu was.

 

After Goro got his letter and sat back down, Iroh pulled out another scroll, and announced, “Private Tadao!” Tadao not only jumped up to get his scroll, he eagerly opened it to start reading on the spot instead of going back to his seat.  Instead of scolding him for blocking the way, Iroh just smiled and gently nudged him aside to clear the way for the next scroll recipient.

 

Lieutenant Jee held up a scroll and announced, “Sergeant Anzu!”

 

“On duty in the engine room,” one of the enginemen piped up, and Lieutenant Jee set that scroll aside while General Iroh reached into the sack for another one.

 

When it was Jee’s turn to hand out a scroll again, he read the seal and announced with a smile, “General Iroh!”

 

“For me?” the aged general exclaimed with delight, clapping his hands and looking for all the world like little Teiji had looked a few days ago, when Zuko had first made the toy dragon fly for him in play.

 

Jee handed him the scroll with an indulgent smile, then said kindly, “I can take it from here, sir.” Iroh promptly sat down with his scroll, opened it and began reading, while Jee reached into the sack for another scroll.

 

Zuko resolutely turned away from the sight of his uncle looking so delighted, to focus on Teiji and the flat wooden koala-sheep he was currently teething on.  “We don’t need any of that,” he whispered very quietly, for only Teiji to hear.  “We don’t need any stupid letters and packages from people who are hundreds of miles away from here.  You’ve got me, right here, and I’ve got you; we don’t need anyone else.”

 

It was mostly true, too, though Zuko couldn’t deny that he needed his uncle’s advice on parenting, on almost an hourly basis.  Teiji burbled at him while still teething on the koala-sheep, and he started counting the little boy’s fingers over and over again, to begin teaching him how to count to ten.  By focusing on Teiji, he was able to almost completely ignore the lieutenant as Jee called out name after name after name, but never once said Zuko’s name…

 

And he was almost able to completely ignore the chatter going on at the tables all over the mess hall, from people reading their letters to their fellow crewmen.  “My boy’s lost his second tooth—look, my wife pasted it to the scroll for me!” “My youngest daughter’s been accepted into the Home Guard!” “My wife says our komodo-rhino had _twins_ —and one of ‘em has the lucky mark on his forehead!  We’ll be able to sell it for half again the usual price when it’s weaned!”

 

Others were talking about their letters from home in a much less happy tone: “My girlfriend sent me a ‘Dear Lee’ letter. Says she’s found a new guy, some hotshot from the colonies…”  “My boy’s having trouble in school again.  If he doesn’t shape up soon, he’s going to be expelled…”  Good news that was shared from people’s letters was celebrated with hearty slaps on the back, and promises to buy drinks at the next port.  Bad news was commiserated with the squeezing of shoulders and gentler pats on the back, and even more promises of drinks to be bought at the next port. 

 

Yes, Zuko was able to ignore the way that his crewmen celebrated and commiserated with each other (all around him but never with him, all he had was Teiji.)  He completely ignored the fact that, once the large sack was empty of scrolls and packages, everyone in the room (except him) had at least one letter to read, and some of them had small stacks of scrolls and even a few packages from home (but nothing for him.)

 

Just after Lieutenant Jee left the mess hall with a basket full of scrolls, his own letters as well as letters for the crewmen who were on essential watches, Teiji made a smelly mess in his diapers again.  But Iroh and the lieutenant had put together the ‘Teiji supplies’ shoulderbag for just this sort of occasion, when it would be inconvenient to go back to his cabin for changing. Zuko pulled a clean diaper, a wiping cloth and a padded mat out of the bag, set Teiji on the mat on the floor, and started changing Teiji’s diaper.

 

And just after he’d started, Uncle Iroh looked up from reading the letters he’d received from some old pai sho buddies of his, and said far too loudly and cheerfully, “Don’t fret, nephew; after the momentous news you put in your letter home this time, I’m sure that one way or another, you’ll finally receive a letter in the _next_ mail call!”

 

…Agni _curse_ his uncle.

 

He was in the middle of changing a diaper, so he couldn’t just get up and stomp out of the room as much as he dearly wanted to.  Instead, Zuko kept his head down and his eyes focused on Teiji, and gritted his teeth as he heard all too clearly the whispers and murmurs from the crewmen to each other: _“He didn’t get anything?” “No letters for him?” “Nothing from home…” “I’ve never heard his name being called out.  Not just today, but not ever that I can think of.”  “No wonder he never comes to these.” “I guess I can understand about his father, but he has a sister too; even the princess doesn’t write to him?” “No letters in over two and a half years…”_

 

When he absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore, he lifted his head just long enough to glare at them all and growl, “ _Don’t you **dare** pity me_.”  That made the crew go silent, but Teiji started to fuss, catching his mood again and getting upset because of it, so he forced calm back into his voice and smiled reassuringly—or tried to, anyway—while he put a new diaper on his son.

 

If only he was a hog-monkey, then he could get away with flinging the poop-filled diaper at the crew to get them to back off!  The thought made him grin just a little, one quick little grin, but it was enough to reassure Teiji as the baby gazed up at him, and he stopped fussing so Zuko could fasten the fresh diaper in place.

 

While determinedly not looking up, Zuko was well aware that after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, one of the crewmen got up and started walking in his direction.  He finished putting fresh pants on Teiji just as the crewman said hesitantly, “Sir?”

 

“What do you want?” he snapped at the crewman, Li Mein, as he sat up and put Teiji in his lap.

 

Li Mein stood there with a small box in his hands, looking nervous but determined as he said, “Sir, my mother knows I’m friends with Hūn— _was_ friends with him, Agni rest his spirit. She sent me some umeboshi with a note that I should share them with him, because I’d told her once that Hūn really liked the way she made them, said it was the best umeboshi he’d ever had.  I can’t share them with Hūn now, but I’d be honored to share them with my prince and captain, the one who avenged his death,” as he dropped to one knee while offering the box of pickled plums to him.

 

If he’d offered the umeboshi out of pity, Zuko would have refused it outright.  But… if Li Mein really felt it would be an _honor_ , because even if he hadn’t been thinking that way at the time, Zuko really had avenged Hūn… Zuko nodded his thanks as he reached into the box and pulled out a pickled plum, then took a bite of it.

 

It was salty and sour as could be, and normally he hated umeboshi, but right then it tasted better than fresh mangoes or even dragonheart fruit.  After swallowing the first bite he said sincerely, “It’s good.”

 

Li Mein smiled a little shyly.  “Can I tell my mother you said so?”

 

Zuko said he could, then looked down at his lap where Teiji was eagerly reaching out to the box, and chided, “No, Teiji, that’s not yours.”

 

Li Mein’s smile got a little wider as he offered the box again, saying, “It’s okay, he can try one!”

 

So Zuko scooted Teiji forward on his lap a little, so the baby could grab an umeboshi for himself.  But after just one bite, Teiji made a horrible face and spat the umeboshi out, and even turned a hurt look on Zuko for letting him put something so awful in his mouth.

 

“I fear that umeboshi are even more of an acquired taste than spicy foods,” Uncle Iroh said with a chuckle as he appeared at Zuko’s side.  “We shall have to accustom him to eating them, as well as other shipboard staples.”

 

“How do we do that?” Zuko asked honestly.  “I don’t want to just _force_ him to eat foods he doesn’t like!”

 

“The trick is to make him think the food is good to eat before he even tastes it,” Goro said with a smile as he also stepped up to the table, on Zuko’s other side.  “I used to make a big deal out of eating the vegetables in my food, with lots of ‘Mmm, this is really good!” and such, to help my wife get our children to eat their veggies too.”

 

“My mom tried to make eating vegetables kind of like a game for my little brother,” Sheng offered. “I remember how she’d swoop the spoon through the air like it was a bird flying around, and bring it up to his mouth a couple of times but back off before he could actually open it, kind-of teasing him with it,” as he pantomimed the actions with his hands. “Then when she slowed down enough for him to actually get the spoon in his mouth and eat the food, it was like he’d _won_ it, y’know?  That was how she finally got him to eat ocean kumquats.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Iroh watched nearly half the crew gradually surround his nephew and grandson, giving the prince their parenting tips, asking what the prince had experienced with Teiji so far, trading stories of their children’s antics, arguing amongst each other as to the most effective parenting techniques… and generally including him in their discussion, in a way they’d never, ever included him before. And from the open and honest look on his nephew’s face, as his seated posture gradually relaxed from a defensive stance to leaning eagerly towards the others, he not only didn’t mind the way they were treating him—not as their prince and superior officer, but more-or-less as an equal—he actually liked it more than he’d ever admit.

 

It was all Iroh could do to not break out in song and dance, from sheer joy; his little scheme had paid off even better than he’d dared hope!  After nearly three long years, his nephew was finally becoming part of the crew at last! 

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Meanwhile, many miles away, Katara trotted across a wooden bridge strung between two giant trees, with Aang right behind her, looking for the leader of the Freedom Fighters.  In her hands she held the hat she’d made for Jet earlier; she’d let Aang try it on when he’d asked so eagerly, but told him to take it off as soon as Momo started sniffing at it a little too eagerly as well. 

 

When they found Jet, she told him firmly, “We’re staying an extra day no matter what Sokka says, and we’ll help you tomorrow by filling the reservoir for fighting forest fires!”

 

“Thanks, Katara and Aang; I really appreciate that.  You’re going to make a big difference here in our war against the Fire Nation,” Jet told them with a smile.

 

“Thanks,” Katara said, blushing; she wished she could stop doing that, but it seemed like every time she saw Jet, she blushed!  Then she shyly held out the hat, with a hesitant, “Um, by the way… I let Aang wear this earlier to see how well it would hold up to being worn, but I really made it for you.”

 

Jet looked down at the hat in her hands, his expression completely blank for a moment, but before her heart could start sinking to her toes he smiled.  “Well, that’s really kind of you!  I don’t normally wear hats, but I might make the occasional exception for this one.”  He took it in his hands, but looked it over instead of trying it on.  “Just look at all the neat stitching; this must have taken you hours to make!”

 

“Only two hours,” Katara said, blushing even harder as she ducked her head.  She shyly looked up again as she told him, “But you’re worth the effort; you’re so noble, with everything you’ve done here in the forest!  Not just fighting the Fire Nation, but taking in all these children too.  You’ve become like a father to them all!”

 

Even if they’d been from the same nation, Jet would still be sooo much more noble than that awful Prince Zuko.  Katara had decided two days ago that the whole reason Zuko had saved the baby and adopted it was because it had mismatched eyes, like he did with that ugly scar; if the baby had been perfectly normal, just a regular innocent Earth Kingdom baby, the Fire Nation prince probably would have left it to die in the woods.  But even though all these children had in common was that they’d lost their homes to the Fire Nation, Jet had adopted them all anyway; he really couldn’t be more noble and heroic by her tribe’s standards!

Jet looked intently at her as she spoke… and his smile widened.  Then he looked past her, to Aang.  “Hey, Aang, I meant to tell you earlier; The Duke came by looking for you.  I think he’s been hoping you’d show him some airbending tricks; would you mind?”

 

Aang said he’d love to show The Duke some airbending tricks and happily zipped off on an air scooter, leaving Katara alone with Jet.  Suddenly she felt even shyer under his intense gaze, and found herself looking at her feet instead, sure her cheeks were bright red from blushing.

 

“Thanks for the hat, Katara,” Jet said, sounding a little shy himself.  She looked up again, to see him giving her a little smile while lightly stroking the hat in his hands.  “I’m, um, I’m more used to doing things for other people, than people doing things for me.”

 

His words made Katara just _melt_ inside.  “Well, you’ll just have to get used to it where I’m concerned,” she said with a bold smile, as she dared to lay her hand over his on top of the hat.

 

Then he turned his hand over, to hold hers in his callused grip—they were _holding hands_ , her heart was beating madly and they were _holding hands_ —as his smile grew a little wider.  “So you really think I’m like a father to all these kids?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” was all she could manage to say, dazzled by that smile.

 

“Well, you know, families usually have both a father _and_ a mother…”

 

Great Ocean, was he saying what she _thought_ he was saying?  Her nerves danced with excitement, with growing hope and incredulous joy.  This handsome hero was in love with her, just like she was in love with him!

 

“Shall we… discuss it further?” Jet asked.  And then, still holding her hand, he led her back to his hut.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Some time after sunset, Zuko found himself yawning to match Teiji’s little yawns.  “It’s bedtime, isn’t it, little soldier boy?” he asked rhetorically as he got two sets of sleepwear out of his sea chest. 

 

Unlike the night before when he’d still been grieving/angry at the world, tonight Teiji cooperated with Zuko in getting dressed in his nightclothes.  He didn’t put up a fuss at all… until Zuko set him down in the crib that the quartermaster had installed in his cabin a few hours ago, and put out the candles for sleep.

 

At Taro’s suggestion, Zuko had put the cloth stuffed panda as well as two of the soft toys Uncle had bought him into the crib, before setting Teiji inside it for the first time.  Teiji had happily played with his toys in the crib while Zuko had gone over the ship’s budget, and had seemed quite pleased with the little bed made just for him.  But now, a few hours later, Teiji was anything but happy with the new sleeping arrangements.  And he made his unhappiness plain to his new father…

 

“Go to sleep, Teiji,” Zuko said tiredly after singing “Leaves From the Vine” for the umpteenth time, as the little boy continued crying and whimpering.  “That’s your bed, and this is my bed, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.  Go. To. Sleep.”  And finally he just rolled over onto his stomach and wrapped his pillow over his head, to muffle the cries so he could go to sleep himself. It took some time and some of Uncle’s meditation techniques, but he finally was able to drift off…

 

Teiji was crying the pirates were kidnapping him he was killing and _killing_ and there was blood and fire everywhere and the pirates kept coming and now they had pinned Teiji down right in front of him and they were _cutting out his eyes_ and—

 

Zuko gasped awake, and found himself fast-crawling on hands and knees over to the crib before he was even aware he’d gotten out of bed.  Was Teiji all right? He’d—  Asleep.  Teiji was sleeping fitfully, with tiny whimpers, but there was no blood and no pirates anywhere around; it had just been another nightmare.

 

But judging by the little whimpers, Teiji was having a nightmare too, and that just wouldn’t do.  “Okay, just this one time, you can come on back with me,” Zuko whispered to the baby as he scooped him up out of the crib, waking him from the nightmare in the process, and carried the baby back to his own bed.  “Just this once,” he muttered as he snuggled down with Teiji, already knowing he was lying. 

 

“Just don’t tell Uncle or any of the crew, all right?” he muttered to Teiji.  Teiji babbled something that Zuko chose to interpret as agreement, then yawned again and went back to sleep with a contented smile.

 

 00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

“As much as I’d like you to stay, you can’t sleep in here tonight; your brother and the Avatar are probably already looking for you,” Jet told Katara, and she agreed as she got dressed again, some of her movements speaking of lingering soreness.

 

Before she slipped out the door, she turned to him and said very earnestly, “Once Aang and I are trained in waterbending…”

 

“I’ll count the days until your return,” he lied to her, with his very best ‘sincere’ smile on his face.

 

After she left to sneak back to the guest hut, he lay back with a grin, reliving some of the best parts in his head.  There was just something about virgins, and foreign girls…

 

But after a couple of hours, when he was sure all their guests were asleep, he quietly gathered his most devoted Freedom Fighters and went to set up the explosives at the dam.  By this time tomorrow, the valley would be washed clean of the Fire Nation taint forever!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The next morning Iroh knocked on his nephew’s door, a tea tray in his hands, and smiling as he heard Teiji’s happy squeals through the door.  Zuko called out a little breathlessly that he could enter, so Iroh opened the door, wondering what exactly was causing his nephew to sound like that.

 

He found out as soon as he stepped past the door; Zuko was on the floor doing pushups while Teiji sat on his back.  The toddler grabbed onto fistfuls of Zuko’s undershirt to steady himself, while jouncing up and down with each piston-like move of the firebender’s arms and torso.  Judging by both the squeals and the ear-to-ear grin on Teiji’s face, this was possibly the most fun he’d ever had in his short life.

 

Iroh grinned as he thought that most fathers played komodo-rhino with their toddlers by crawling about with them on their backs, but trust Zuko to find a way to combine playtime with his physical training!  “Quite ingenious, nephew,” he said as he set the tea tray down on the table, and was rewarded by seeing Zuko’s quick grin on the upstroke of his pushups. 

 

A minute or so later Zuko grunted, “Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One Hundred,” on the final upstroke, before he settled slowly to rest on the floor.  He turned his head to the side as he said warmly, “Okay, Teiji, ride’s over; time to get off!”

 

Teiji at first refused to budge, instead yanking on fistfuls of Zuko’s undershirt while babbling for more, so Iroh simply went over and picked him up, with a quick tickle or two to keep his good humor intact.  “An excellent way to start the morning!” he commented as he set Teiji down on a cushion by the table.  “Now let me mind him for a while, so you can get cleaned up and dressed for breakfast in the mess hall.  I believe the cook is making your favorite side dish, _tamagoyaki_ rolled with fire flakes…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Even though he was frozen to a tree, Jet snarled, “Sokka, you fool! We could've freed this valley!”

 

Seated on Appa’s head, Sokka just stared at him incredulously. “Who would be free?  Everyone would be _dead_.”

 

But Jet utterly refused to see it that way; instead he hissed with raw hatred twisting his handsome features, “You _traitor_!”

 

In contrast to Jet’s heated words, Sokka’s voice was cold and grim.  “No, Jet. You became the traitor, when you stopped protecting innocent people.”

 

Then Jet turned his head to look imploringly at Katara, even though she was the one who’d frozen him to the tree. “Katara, please—help me!  Didn’t last night mean anything to--”

 

A blast of water hit him in the face, and froze to become a thick ice gag over his mouth.  “ _Shut up, Jet_!” Katara screamed at him, red-faced and shaking with rage.  Then she turned and ran for Appa’s saddle. 

 

Aang hung back just long enough to make sure that the ice gag didn’t cover Jet’s nose so he could still breathe, and then air-hopped into the saddle to join Katara.  Sokka said “Yip-yip,” and Appa rose into the air and soared away from the forest, leaving Jet far behind.

 

Aang was about to ask how come Sokka had gone to the town, when he and Katara had been so sure he would go to the dam, when Sokka spoke first, sounding suspicious. “Katara, what exactly was Jet talking about when he said ‘didn’t last night mean anything’?”

 

Katara just miserably hugged herself, looking down at the saddle as she mumbled, “Nothing.  He was lying, just like he lied about everything else.  He—Jet is _evil_!  I hope the Fire Nation finds him there before his friends can!”

 

Aang sort-of agreed with her, even though he didn’t want to think about what the Fire Nation would probably do to Jet if they got their hands on him. But to change the subject a little, he asked Sokka about why he’d gone to the town instead of to the dam.  And after Sokka replied that he’d listened to his instincts, Aang felt compelled to point out that right then, those instincts were sending them in the wrong direction, North was _that_ way.

 

But even after he and Sokka joked around a little about instincts being right only sometimes, Katara refused to join in; she just sat there in the saddle acting utterly miserable.  At lunchtime, after they pulled out some food for a picnic in midair, Aang nudged her a little as he said with determined cheer, “Come on, it’s not so bad, Katara.  Nobody died back there, thanks to Sokka’s instincts!  Yeah, the townspeople lost some belongings in the flood, but they’ll be able to rebuild; in another year or so, it’ll be like the flood never happened!  Everything will go back to just like it was before.”

 

“Not everything,” Katara mumbled, looking down at the vegetable roll she had no appetite for.  “Sometimes after you lose something, you can’t ever get it back…”

 

“Like what?” Aang wanted to know.

 

“Just _drop it_ , Aang,” Sokka said suddenly and harshly from where he was sitting on the other side of the saddle.  Aang looked worriedly at his friend, wondering what he’d just done wrong… but Sokka wasn’t looking at him; instead, he was looking at Katara with a hard frown of disapproval, and maybe even disgust.

 

Brother and sister didn’t talk to each other for hours after that, no matter how many times Aang tried to start a conversation between them.  But finally, after they landed to make camp for the night, Sokka walked up to Katara and said very seriously, “Katara, I want you to know something… I’m your brother. You’re my little sister, and I’ll always love you and look out for you.  And nothing will ever change that, okay?  Nothing you do will ever change that.”

 

And all of a sudden Katara grabbed for Sokka as she burst into tears, and started bawling her eyes out.  She cried on Sokka’s tunic while Aang stared at them, scratched at his arrow and finally burst out, “What’s going on?”

 

“None of your business, Aang,” Sokka said firmly while holding Katara and gently rubbing her back, as she hid her face in his tunic to muffle her sobs.  “It’s a family matter, not up for discussion.”

 

Aang was hurt; it was the first time they’d ever shut him out of a conversation.  He almost reminded them that Katara had said back at the Southern Air Temple that they were his family now… but looked at Katara as her shoulders shook with sobs, and decided to just let the matter drop.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fans who’ve read my story “Promises to Keep” may recognize not just the names for several members of Zuko’s crew, but also some of the ceremonies and details about shipboard life that I used in this chapter. That’s because once I’ve built a good solid background, I see no reason why the same stage can’t be used again to tell a different story. Also, one small scene, the one where Jee realized that part of why Zuko sucks ashes at leadership is because he's had no officer training, was shamelessly stolen and adapted from a similar scene in the awesome Nele's utterly awesome story "People in the Mirror are Closer Than They Appear." (Absolutely The Hottest Jeeko Story in existence, I swear!)
> 
> Yes, I made up Sil Jon, the ATLA world’s patron spirit of pirates; brownie points to anyone who figures out the inspiration for that name. 
> 
> And finally, Reijin the minstrel and his spinning a heroic ballad out of just a few stray facts that he misinterpreted, may seem like too much of a stretch to some folks. But consider the fact that Korra-centric fics started appearing here in the fanfic archives nearly a full year before the show aired…Some people think it all started with Star Trek, but the principles of fanfic are far older than television! ;-)


	6. Commissioned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised that there’s a promotion mentioned for Zhao in this chapter, that wasn’t ever stated in the series. I quite honestly believe that was an oversight on the writers’ part; either they never bothered to research military rankings, or they thought too many title changes would confuse the younger kids watching the show. But a single promotion that jumps a full three ranks from Commander to Admiral is just way too much for this veteran to take.

In the full week since little Teiji had been brought aboard, the entire crew had noticed that the prince who captained their vessel seemed… nicer. He didn’t yell at them as much. He didn’t stomp around as much, even when he wasn’t carrying the baby. He showed signs he actually cared about the crew, like when he’d nominated poor Hūn for a posthumous award. He sometimes even said a few crewmembers were doing well at their jobs!

But they’d had to put up with his shouting and stomping and temper tantrums for over two-and-a-half years already, and none of them really believed the changes would last. So when word was passed that the prince wanted the whole crew assembled on deck, hours after the usual morning muster, everyone rolled their eyes and figured the honeymoon was over.

An off-time and all-hands assembly was never a happy occasion. The last time Prince Zuko had called for one, it was because he’d somehow found the still that two enterprising crewmen secretly rigged up behind the hay bales in the beast-hold. Everyone had been forced to stand there at attention while the Royal Pain ranted at them for twenty minutes straight, and while he either melted or burned every component of that still before their collective eyes.

Speculation quietly ran rampant as they gathered on the main deck—had someone started building another still? Had someone smuggled aboard some Earth Kingdom contraband, like poppy juice?—but they shut up and stood at attention when Jee cleared his throat, just as Prince Zuko came striding out onto the deck, with his uncle right behind him holding Teiji.

The prince stood in front of the formation, holding up what looked like a standard metal panel with all the rivets popped off for removal, and with graffiti all over it. "I just pulled this out of the crew’s latrine on the fourth deck," he announced loudly enough for them all to hear clearly. "And I want to know who drew this!" as he tapped a sketch at the center.

Dead silence filled the air, as all of them stared at the graffiti in question. It was actually a pretty decent drawing of General Iroh, grinning while characters beside the sketch showed him to be proudly proclaiming, "Grandchildren at last!" At least it wasn’t obscene or derogatory, unlike a lot of the graffiti that various crewmembers had written and drawn on that latrine door and walls over the last couple of years.

When the silence lasted more than five seconds, the prince’s face drew into a fierce scowl as he demanded, "Well?! Speak up! This wasn’t drawn by seafaring _tengu_ ; I know one of you did it!"

General Iroh cleared his throat for attention, while little Teiji in his arms teethed on a wooden koala-sheep. "Prince Zuko, perhaps you should explain to the crew exactly what sort of punishment you have in mind for the perpetrator."

The prince stared at his uncle with baffled outrage in his expression as he echoed, " _Punishment_? It’s not punishment if he gets extra pay for it!" Then he turned back to the assembly and declared, "This is the most promising art I’ve seen in the past two years on this ship, and I want the artist to make a portrait of Teiji’s mother!"

Several gasps were heard all over the assembly; some of surprise, some of dismay, and many of an emotion that could best be described as retroactive terror. The fourth-deck latrine was used only by enlisted men, since there was another latrine closer to the officers’ cabins that was reserved for the royal posteriors. Over the past two years many crewmen had written obscene haiku and drawn even nastier pictures on those latrine walls, indulging their creative streaks as well as visually venting their resentment over the brat-prince and the impossible mission they were on.

They’d done so safe in the knowledge that the royals would never see the graffiti; the maintenance crew always made sure those walls were carefully sanded down and painted over again the day before any inspection below decks. But the prince had still seen what they’d been drawing and writing all this time, and all too often about him?!

Some people must have murmured their dismay a little too loudly, or perhaps he just figured it out from their expressions, because the prince’s good eye narrowed to glare at them like the scarred one as he gritted out, "Yes, I’ve seen it all. Every caricature you’ve drawn, every last horrible thing you’ve ever written about me… Did you really think I wouldn’t know everything that goes on aboard _my ship_? But right now I want to commission a portrait, so _who drew this_?!"

After several more long seconds, knowing that sooner or later _someone_ would let the truth slip out, Cheung swallowed hard and hesitantly raised his hand. "I did, sir. Um, your highness, I want to apo--"

"You’ll receive ten gold pieces for the portrait, but only after it’s completed to my satisfaction. Report to my cabin immediately," the prince rode right over Cheung’s verbal groveling, before barking to them all, " _Dismissed_!"

The assembly broke up as people headed back to their duty stations, many of them casting backward glances at Cheung, unsure whether they should offer him congratulations or condolences.

Cheung reported to the prince’s cabin, and immediately threw himself on the floor in a full kowtow, profusely apologizing for everything he’d ever drawn that had been less than complimentary of his royal highness. With his forehead on the floor, he heard the prince growl while standing over him, "You’re not sorry that you did it, only that you got _caught_ at it. But if I was going to punish people for drawing graffiti there, I would have started doing it two years ago! Now, shut up and listen…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Looking at the crewman kowtowing in front of him, Zuko fought again to control his temper as he remembered once more all the nasty, horrible things he’d read in their griping about him on those latrine walls; all the pictures they’d drawn that made him look even uglier than he already was. But he’d never said a word about any of it, not even to his uncle, because he knew it would have done more harm than good.

He’d seen that graffiti while he was skulking about the ship in his Blue Spirit guise, practicing stealth and acrobatics for his self-imposed missions ashore whenever they were in port. And checking for signs of incipient mutiny; two years ago the graffiti had gotten particularly vicious, suggesting inventive ways to dispose of his corpse, and that had been the only warning he’d had of the mutiny less than two days later. Punishing people for putting graffiti there could have raised the question of just how he’d found it, and would only have led them to doing it somewhere else, so he hadn’t said a word until now, when he needed a good artist for Teiji’s sake. And as he stared at Cheung groveling at his feet, he cynically wondered where the crew would start posting their nasty pictures and verses about him from now on.

Then he pushed those thoughts aside to give Cheung his instructions. "You’re actually going to draw two pictures. The first one will be of Teiji’s mother—of her corpse—exactly as I remember it from when we found them. Then you’ll use that picture for reference for the _real_ portrait, one of her looking alive and smiling instead of dead. I want a portrait worthy of a royal shrine, because that’s where it’s going to end up someday!"

He and Uncle had promised at the mother’s poor Earth Kingdom-style funeral that they would see Teiji raised to honor her memory. But at the time, they’d thought it would just be a matter of finding the village Teiji had been born in, and getting someone there who’d known the mother well to raise her son. Now all they had to go on were what Zuko remembered of the mother’s corpse as she lay dead in the ravine; Teiji was far too young to retain his babyish memories of her as he grew older.

They couldn’t even tell Teiji his mother’s name (and Zuko once more kicked himself for not at least asking that while they’d been in Senlin Village, but at the time Uncle hadn’t told him about the kirin-spirit yet), but Zuko was determined that his son would at least know what his mother looked like, as well as the fact that she’d loved him dearly; loved him enough to die saving him.

After the initial instructions, he sent Cheung scrambling off to get his personal artistic supplies, and anything else he needed for painting portraits from the ships’ stores. Cheung would report back to his cabin at high noon to begin drawing the mother; every detail that Zuko could remember of her corpse. That picture would later be ceremonially burned in a private Fire Nation-style funeral that Zuko had already planned out in his mind; a ceremony in which he’d properly inform the mother’s spirit that he would personally raise her son, and the new name he had given him.

After Cheung had left, Uncle Iroh spoke up from where he’d been keeping Teiji occupied and giggling with tickled toesies. "You would have problems persuading the Fire Sages to mount an Earth Kingdom mother’s portrait in a royal shrine, nephew, though it could certainly be hung in Teiji’s room as he grows up."

"I know that," Zuko said with a dismissive wave. "I only told him that to make sure he does the best possible job he can on the portrait." The dead woman that he recalled seeing in the ravine had looked rather plain, but the royal portrait painters at the palace were famous for making even the plainest woman look beautiful on silk panels, while still being recognizable as herself. If Cheung’s best efforts just weren’t good enough, then he’d have her portrait redone when they finally captured the Avatar and went home.

Thoughts of home inevitably led Zuko to wondering, with anxiety-clenched guts and sweating palms, about how his father was reacting to the news that he was now an adoptive grandfather. Royal messages were always given top priority, so Zuko’s letter should have been flown by a relay of messenger hawks straight to Capital Island and the palace, and arrived there no later than today. How had his father and sovereign ruler reacted to the news? With surprise, certainly… and likely with initial disapproval too, no matter how many different reasons Zuko had given for this adoption to prove ultimately beneficial for the Fire Nation. His father had never liked surprises. But after reading about the circumstances, and all the foreseeable benefits, he would ultimately understand and give his blessing to the adoption, right? …Right?

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Back in the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord’s official secretary sorted through all the messages that had arrived for the monarch’s review. Standard petitions in the large pile by the door, petitions from Ozai’s currently favored nobles in a much smaller pile on his desk, standard updates from the generals and admirals on the war front in another small pile on the desk, special updates on the golden tray. Then the secretary picked up the black-ribboned scroll, recognized the royal seal… sighed to himself, and put the scroll still unopened on a tray of papers destined for the throne room.

Fire Lord Ozai made a show of receiving and reading certain messages aloud for the benefit of the royal court. Usually news from the front of great victories, as well as any reports of Earth Kingdom savagery against their troops and colonists that proved how much the world needed the Fire Nation’s civilizing influence.

Today, Princess Azula was in attendance at the court, sitting on her father’s right side as she observed and learned how to rule. When she saw the pile of scrolls being carried in on the golden tray, and recognized the black-ribboned scroll near the bottom of the small pile, she smiled… and it was not at all a nice smile. The secretary saw it, but had learned long ago to keep his face expressionless no matter the occasion.

Fire Lord Ozai opened the topmost scroll, from General Bujing’s campaign at Omashu, and his eyebrows shot upwards for a moment as he read in silence. Then he smiled wide as he read aloud for everyone’s benefit how the Earth Kingdom stronghold of Omashu had finally been conquered… without the loss of a single Fire Nation soldier! After years of outfoxing and beating back campaigns against his city, when faced with the latest siege and invasion forces, King Bumi had finally recognized Fire Nation superiority and surrendered without a single boulder tossed.

Since it had been an unprecedented victory for their side, Fire Lord Ozai magnanimously decreed that Bumi would be merely imprisoned; sparing the native ruler from the usual custom of being burned alive on his palace steps. The secretary quickly wrote down Ozai’s response for sending back to Omashu, before the next scroll was opened.

There were news of other victories, though none greater than the one at Omashu. And for atrocities, Ozai scowled as he read aloud the report from Gaipan. Terrorists living in the forests surrounding that village had blown up the nearby dam, intent on drowning everyone in the valley, even their own countrymen! Most of the town had been washed away; only a last-minute warning from an unnamed outsider and a quick and resourceful evacuation led by the commander of the local garrison had saved all the villagers’ lives.

Then Ozai picked up the black-ribboned scroll, and one eyebrow arched as he asked in a clear voice filled with disdain, "What’s this?"

"It is a letter from the banished prince Zuko, your majesty," the secretary said without expression. He had learned over two years ago to never, ever add to that sentence, ‘your son’.

Ozai sneered as the scroll burst into flames in his palm. "I will not read the words of a coward and a weakling."

"Of course, your majesty," the secretary replied, still expressionless.

That concluded the formal scroll readings for the day. The secretary departed to send immediate word to Omashu to spare their king, while the undersecretaries remained to record further court proceedings, such as deciding which noble would be appointed governor of the conquered city of Omashu.

As he moved swiftly through the corridors, the secretary reflected the ceremonial burning of Prince Zuko’s letters hadn’t changed a bit in the last two years; not even after the Fire Sages had sent word that the Avatar had indeed returned after a century of hiding from the world. Not even after reports came in indicating that Prince Zuko himself had been the one to flush the coward out of hiding! The only thing Fire Lord Ozai had done when that news had been received, had been to summon a Fire Sage to reread the precise terms of Prince Zuko’s banishment. And the terms were very precise: in order to reclaim his honor and return home, Prince Zuko must capture the Avatar and bring him back in chains to present to his father.

The secretary had expected—well, just hoped, to be honest—that the Fire Lord would inform his staff that he would actually read Prince Zuko’s letters in the privacy of his office, now that there was indeed a chance for the prince to return home. But instead, the next thing Ozai had done was give a particularly ambitious, toadying and generally offensive military officer (in the secretary’s very private opinion, of course) named Zhao, an instant promotion and far more prominent command. Overnight, Zhao had gone from being a Commander in charge of a remote and relatively unimportant naval base, to a Commodore in charge of the entire blockade that kept Earth Kingdom forces out of their home waters.

There was precedence for awarding promotions that jumped two ranks at once, for truly outstanding military officers after their efforts and strategies had proven key to some great victory for the Fire Nation. But this promotion had been entirely undeserved, and Zhao had proved it just last week when he’d let the Avatar slip past the blockade and reach Crescent Island. And further proved his incompetence when he’d given chase and attempted to trap the Avatar on the island; he’d miscalculated, or just let his ego blind him to his limitations, badly enough that the Fire Sages’ temple had been completely destroyed as the Avatar had escaped. Zhao had immediately pinned all the blame on the Fire Sages, claiming they’d all turned traitor and supported the Avatar against him. But popular opinion was that if Zhao was looking for scapegoats, he should have looked elsewhere than at the very Fire Sages that had crowned Prince Ozai and declared him Fire Lord.

When the news had broken, everyone had expected the Board of Admirals to demote Zhao back to Commander on the spot, if not order him to resign his commission after such a fatal blunder. But since the Fire Lord himself had promoted Zhao to Commodore rank, only the Fire Lord could demote him or give him worse punishment. So far the Fire Lord had done no such thing, and the secretary really did not understand it. Ozai did not tolerate failures; everyone knew that. And Zhao’s family, while noble, had neither power nor prestige enough for them to influence the Fire Lord in his decisions. So far as the secretary knew, Zhao had never come to the Fire Lord’s attention at all before that Agni Kai report had crossed his desk a month ago…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Cheung was not a worrier by nature; he tended to take life as it came, enjoying it when everything went well and shrugging his shoulders when it didn’t. Though he’d conceded later that he probably shouldn’t have just shrugged his shoulders when the board of inquiry had asked him why he’d been absent from muster and missed the departure of his last ship; if he’d shown them more remorse over his mistakes and determination to do better in his military career, then he might not have ended up on Prince Zuko’s vessel in the first place.

But today, Cheung was not just worried but downright _anxious_ , trying to discreetly wipe the nervous sweat off his brow so it didn’t drop onto the parchment he was drawing on. Drawing as Prince Zuko paced back and forth in front of him, while describing in detail the dead woman he’d found in a ravine a week ago.

Part of the reason Cheung was anxious was because he was drawing a picture of a corpse; it seemed disrespectful of the dead, even if General Iroh had discreetly assured him that later on the picture would be ceremonially burned in a funeral for the woman’s spirit. But the main reason he was anxious was because of Prince Zuko. The teenager who was simultaneously a royal prince, the captain of this vessel, and the terrible brat that he had mocked repeatedly in cartoons on the latrine walls over the last two years. With every stroke of his charcoal stick, Cheung couldn’t help recalling all the times he’d used that same stick to draw cruel caricatures of the prince, all the nasty and terrible things he’d drawn the prince doing—and drawn having done to him, too. All the drawings that it turned out the prince had _seen with his own eyes_ …

He really shouldn’t have done that one last year of the prince and the koala-sheep. And Akio, the other good artist aboard the ship, _really_ shouldn’t have done that one six months ago, of the prince and the komodo-rhino! Great Agni Above, if he’d really seen all those pictures and read all the other cruel things they’d written about him, no wonder the prince had been so harsh with the crew all the time!

Cheung knew with bone-deep certainty that if he didn’t create a brilliant, absolutely _beautiful_ portrait of little Teiji’s mother, the very best work he’d ever done in his entire life, the rest of his life would be _hellish_ now that the prince knew the identity of one of his tormentors. The prince had said he wouldn’t punish anyone for the graffiti on those walls, but… that one of him with the koala-sheep, and oh Agni, the _caption_ Cheung had drawn to go with it… Even doing a portrait worthy of a royal shrine might not be enough to save him!

Ten minutes later, Cheung finished his sketch of an Earth Kingdom woman as Prince Zuko had described her, and turned the picture to face him with a very humble, "The first draft is finished, your highness; may I beg you to correct me and explain how it may be improved, to better capture the woman’s likeness?"

The prince scowled at the picture, criticized nearly every last detail about it and demanded it be entirely redrawn. And then he proceeded to stand there looking right over Cheung’s shoulder for the next draft, watching every single stroke he made. After a minute or two of watching and criticizing, the prince said scornfully that it was no wonder the first draft had been so far off the mark; he didn’t see how anyone could draw well with their hands shaking like that…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The next day, Zuko had just finished putting another diaper on Teiji when he heard a knock on the door of his cabin. He put Teiji in his crib so he could open the door without worries; it was amazing how fast his son could crawl across the floor when he wanted to, and more than once he’d had to make a desperate last-second grab to keep the baby from charging right out into the corridor. Then he opened the door, to find both his uncle and Lieutenant Jee standing there. He stiffened, bracing himself for bad news; they rarely came to see him together this way unless something had come up that could affect the entire ship.

Iroh began by saying, "Prince Zuko, I believe that the ship as a whole would benefit from having another watch added to the duty roster on a regular basis."

"What would this watch entail?" he asked warily.

Lieutenant Jee answered, "Watches of 2 hours in duration, 6 per day; first watch beginning one hour after the first morning gong, and last watch ending at the evening gong. Standing guard inside one room, specifically the 2-Port-7-Aft room, and performing assorted duties as required for the personage therein."

"The personage therein?" Zuko stared at him as his mind mapped out the entire ship and the contents of the room located on the second deck port side, seven frames aft of the centerline."That’s the auxiliary armory!"

"That’s currently what it is, yes," Iroh put in with a grin. "But if we relocate all the spears and bows, and do a little furnishing and redecorating, then it would make an ideal nursery!"

"A nursery for Teiji? You want to set up watches for minding him?" Zuko asked, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. "But I thought…" He thought he’d been doing a good job lately of taking care of his son.

His uncle must have read his expression, because Iroh hastened to reassure him, "No one is trying to take your place as Teiji’s father! But creating a nursery for him where you can leave him without worries for his well-being, will give you more freedom for performing your own duties as captain of the ship. And more time to devote to your firebending skills as well; feel free to correct me, nephew, but you have not had the opportunity to meditate with fire since Teiji first came aboard."

"No, I haven’t," Zuko admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "The one time I tried it, Teiji kept going for the candles." Just saying ‘no’ repeatedly hadn’t been enough that time; the flames had been too fascinating. Zuko had tried to explain to his son that fire was pretty but _not_ safe for a non-bender to play with, but the baby just didn’t understand the words yet, and Zuko refused to let him burn himself and find out the hard way.

"So it would benefit you to have someone else minding Teiji for at least part of the day. And while I am certainly happy with any opportunity to spend time with my would-be grandson, it would not do for me to be too selfish with him."

"Too selfish with him?" Zuko echoed, confused. "You mean, you’re worried you’ll spoil him?"

Uncle Iroh chuckled. "Prince Zuko, spoiling a child is a grandparent’s _privilege_! No, I am referring to the fact that you and I are not the only people aboard this ship who think Teiji is a delightful and adorable child," as he crossed over to the crib, where Teiji was babbling joyously and holding his arms up for a lift.

"Over a third of the crew thinks so too, and they would like very much the opportunity to spend time with him," his uncle continued as he hoisted Teiji up into the air, rewarded for his efforts with happy squeals. "They want to go ‘kootchie kootchie koo!’ and ‘who’s a good little baby? Why, _you_ are! Yes, you are!’ and play this-little-cowpiggie with him," as Teiji giggled and shrieked happy laughter in response to what Iroh was doing with him. "But none of them are brave enough to do so while the baby is still in your royal arms."

Lieutenant Jee held up a slate board with a list of names. "Personnel who have already volunteered for the nursery watch, sir, if you authorize its creation. Several of them are fathers themselves, and a few are grandfathers."

"But of course you’ll want to interview them yourself and verify their qualifications," Uncle Iroh put in swiftly. "Such as how competent they are at changing diapers, if they understand the importance of a regular naptime, and how well they interact with Teiji at playtime."

Zuko frowned at the slate full of names, then raised a challenging eyebrow at his lieutenant. "They’d better all understand ahead of time that standing nursery watch won’t get them out of standing their regular watches."

"Of course not, sir."

"And that minding Teiji is a _serious responsibility_! As serious as minding the engines or the helm; any dereliction of duty will be **_very_** harshly dealt with!"

"Absolutely, sir. They also understand that you may come in at any time of day, several times each day, to see for yourself how Teiji is faring." _And play with him yourself_ , the twinkle in the lieutenant’s eyes and slight tug at the corner of his mouth seemed to say. But since it wasn’t said aloud, Zuko couldn’t say anything to deny it.

"All right. Start clearing out the armory, and talk to the quartermaster about making another crib for naptimes in the nursery. I’ll start the interviews right after lunch."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

After the word was given, the crew took apart another packing crate and put together another crib even faster than the first one, while the armory was cleaned out and the quartermaster produced tins of red, brown, gold, green and even blue paint from Agni-knew-where for painting the room in cheerful colors. "We’ll paint murals of our home islands on the walls for Teiji, so he can see where he’ll be living someday!" Iroh asserted cheerfully. Everyone who could wield a paintbrush began volunteering for the job, and arguing amongst themselves as to which of their famous volcanoes should go on which wall as well as who made the best trees and clouds.

By the time the murals were finished and drying on the walls, the second crib and sets of bedding were ready, and the prince had conducted interviews and selected the six crewmen who would be standing the nursery watch each day for the first week. Lieutenant Jee told those who were disappointed, "You’ll get your turn when next week’s watchbill is drawn up. In the meantime, you can still see him at meal times along with the rest of us. But if I catch any of you loitering around the nursery when there’s work to be done…!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The morning that the nursery was declared ready for use, Prince Zuko came into the mess hall for breakfast with General Iroh and his adopted son, and with an unmistakable smile—no, an outright _grin_ —on his face. General Iroh was sporting an even wider grin, and he announced in ringing tones, "We are pleased to announce that our newest crewmember has finally gotten his sea legs under him!"

Grins sprouted like dandelions all over the mess hall as the crew quickly cleared a space for the demonstration. Prince Zuko handed Teiji to the general, then took four steps away before pivoting, crouching low to the floor and saying in coaxing tones, "Come to Daddy, Teiji…"

General Iroh set the baby gently on the floor, making sure the little tyke’s feet were firmly planted before carefully taking his hands off Teiji’s torso. With his eyes fixed on his adoptive father, Teiji took several toddling steps across the mess hall deck, accompanied by the prince’s continual words of encouragement and a chorus of quiet cheers from the crew. Eight steps, ten… on the twelfth step and only one foot away from his goal, he wavered when the ship hit a more significant wave and rocked slightly more than usual. He would have fallen onto his butt, but the prince swooped in and caught him before his diapered bottom could actually hit the deckplates.

The prince picked Teiji up and cuddled him close, cooing just like any proud new daddy, "You did it, Teiji! You’re walking! Who’s a big boy, hm? Why, _you_ are! Yes you are; my big, brave and beautiful boy! Daddy’s so proud of you; Daddy’s so proud of his big boy…"

Then the prince looked up from where he was cuddling Teiji, and saw how everyone was smiling at him. He stiffened, his face reddening, and his features drawing into that familiar scowl. Everyone either hurriedly looked away or braced themselves for a tirade, figuring that the prince was embarrassed at being caught acting so affectionate in public, and an embarrassed prince was an _angry_ prince.

Then they all heard Teiji say clearly, "Dada!"

Everyone whipped back around to stare at Teiji and the prince. The prince, embarrassment and anger forgotten in an instant, was staring down at the baby in his arms in astonishment as he almost whispered, "Did you just say…"

"Dada!" Teiji repeated, with a gap-toothed grin.

And that proud prince of the Fire Nation just _melted_ into an even more adoring new daddy than before. Everyone close enough to actually see it would later swear up and down to the rest that there were actual _tears of joy_ shimmering in his good eye as he turned to the general and said with an absolutely _dopey_ grin, "He called me _Daddy_ , Uncle!"

"He did indeed, Zuko!" as Iroh joyfully embraced father and son together—right in front of everyone, but the prince was quite obviously far past any concerns about his image just then. Then the general turned and addressed the room at large, "This calls for a celebration! Chu Si, let’s have a feast tonight! I shall contribute the finest teas in my collection and all the special treats I had been saving for a momentous occasion—for they are rarely more momentous than this!"

Baby’s first steps _and_ first words, all in one morning! And a guaranteed feast to follow that night; this was the best day the crew of the _Wani_ had had in years!

Sometime after breakfast, the prince finally came down off of his cloud enough to take Teiji to the new nursery, where old Joben had been waiting patiently and hopefully for nearly an hour for his charge to arrive. Teiji was delighted with his new playroom, and with all the toys that crewmembers had either surreptitiously bought at the last port or carved themselves in their spare time; he now had an entire farm’s worth of wooden hippo-cows, komodo-rhinos, pig-chickens and koala-sheep to play with. Add to that treasure trove the many toys that the general had bought on his last shopping spree, and Teiji probably had the best-stocked playroom for hundreds of miles around.

Joben, who’d raised four boys and had three grandchildren already (one of which he’d never seen, born after the prince’s mission had begun,) had the privilege of being the first enlisted crewmember to coo over and play with the baby in the nursery. He reported to everyone who was listening at lunchtime that the little tyke preferred bright red over other colors and that his current favorite toy was a komodo-rhino, which just proved that he’d always been meant to be a Fire Nation boy. And that about ten minutes after being left there in the nursery by the prince, Teiji had gotten a little upset when he’d finally realized that his daddy had left without him, but Joben had distracted him by making some toys sing and dance for him and he’d soon started playing cheerfully again.

"His fussing was probably going on while the prince was on the bridge," Lieutenant Jee said with a wry smile. "Soon after he arrived, he started looking worried and got so distracted for a few minutes that he nearly walked right off the ladder; the general had to almost drag him over to the charts to plot our course. I’d wondered what was on his mind, but it was probably what he was hearing with those too-sharp ears of his!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

An hour’s bison-flight south of the Great Divide, the Avatar and his companions had made camp for the evening. They could have flown further that day but Aang had said that the best time to see that natural wonder was in the morning, when the sunlight from the east hit all the age-old formations just right.

Sokka finished setting up the tent and emerged from inside it just as Katara walked up with an armload of kindling. She gave him a raised eyebrow as she said, "Um, aren’t you forgetting the tarp?"

"Right, got it," Sokka assured her, before picking up the rolled up tarp and throwing it through the open flap and into the tent.

 

Katara said crossly, "Sokka, you're supposed to put the tarp on _top_ of the tent. You know, so we don't get _rained_ on."

"Ordinarily you'd be right, but seeing how it's the dry season, you're not," he retorted while gesturing at the utterly cloudless sky above them. "Besides, that tarp makes a pretty warm blanket."

"But what if it **_does_** rain?" she insisted.

Sokka thought he did a decent job of holding in his annoyance as he said, "But what if it doesn't? Then I would have put the tarp up for nothing,"

Katara, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hold in her temper; she stomped and gritted her teeth while growling, "You're infuriating!"

Sokka was about to toss back a comment that instead of worrying about nonexistent rain, she should worry about getting more firewood than that sorry little bundle she’d brought in. But he paused, looking at his sister, and realized… it was actually kind-of nice, in a perverse way, to see her getting all angry like that. This was the first time she’d gotten angry or even a little bit bossy since leaving Gaipan and that bastard Jet behind.

She’d been so—so _subdued_ for the last few days; as if Jet had stolen not just her virginity, but all her confidence in herself. It had made for a few quiet and completely bicker-free days of traveling, but Sokka had to admit, he was actually kind-of glad now to be getting his bossy old sister back. So he went back inside the tent, brought out the tarp and began unrolling it while saying with a show of irritation, "Okay, fine, **_just_** to make you happy, I’ll put the tarp up over the tent. I still say it’s a waste of time, though."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The celebration feast that night was merry indeed, with good food and excellent tea for everyone, and even a brand-new outfit for the baby! Taro the quartermaster showed off the outfit he’d put together for Teiji to wear, now that he had started walking; a baby-sized black-and-red robe to match Prince Zuko’s usual informal wear! He explained that he’d made it from pieces of a robe that Zuko had outgrown two years ago, that he’d never gotten around to trading for other dry goods. Prince Zuko thanked him very sincerely, saying he’d done an excellent job and it was very much appreciated, as General Iroh grinned while dressing the baby in his fine new clothes. Then father and son paraded around the mess hall in their matching outfits, with Zuko bending down so Teiji could hold onto his finger with one chubby little hand.

The feast also included an impromptu Music Night; at the general’s request, everyone brought their musical instruments and got reacquainted with the rhymes and nursery songs they’d learned as children. They played and sang "Hoshi’s Komodo-Rhino," "Cherry Blossoms," "The Little Turtle-Duckling," and "Three Brave Colonists" for Teiji’s benefit, while he sat wide-eyed with wonder on his adoptive father’s lap; it was possibly the first time the baby had ever been exposed to good music.

Strumming his pipa to the tune of "Moon Peaches", Jee stole a glance at Prince Zuko. General Iroh had claimed that his nephew was an accomplished tsungi horn player, but in the past two-and-a-half years aboard, the prince had never once been coaxed into joining them for Music Night. Jee had figured that the Royal Pain equated Music with Fun and Enjoyment, and had no use for any of it. And maybe he still had no use for it himself, but at least the prince wasn’t begrudging his little boy’s enjoyment of it; he was looking down at the baby in his lap with pure affection in his eyes.

Then after they finished "Moon Peaches," General Iroh took off the tsungi horn he’d been playing and walked up to the prince and baby with a smile. "Here, nephew; it’s my turn to hold him now. And your turn to play for him!"

Prince Zuko got a not-quite-panicked look in his good eye as he echoed, "Play for him? But I-I don’t play anymore!"

"You were quite the talented tsungi horn player once," General Iroh said encouragingly. "I believe you’ll find that it will all come back to you with just a little practice."

"But I… it’s been _years_! Not since…" the prince’s voice trailed off into a pained silence, as he dropped his eyes to stare fixedly into Teiji’s baby-fine hair.

A silence that Teiji broke with a questioning sound while reaching for the tsungi horn; he grabbed it by the mouthpiece, and with an indulgent smile, the general let him tug it towards his tiny mouth—whereupon the baby instinctively tried to teethe on it.

"That’s not the proper technique, little one!" the general chuckled as he gently pried the tsungi horn mouthpiece away from the baby. Then he coaxed again, "Come, show your son how it’s done, Zuko. Play for him… the way _his grandmother_ would have played music for him." The prince stiffened even further, but the general continued in a near-whisper, "Play for _her_ … for them both."

After a long, silent moment, Prince Zuko swallowed hard, and then nodded with a jerky, abrupt motion. Keeping his eyes down, he hoisted Teiji and held him outwards for the general to accept, and a moment later, accepted the tsungi horn in return. He wiped baby drool off the mouthpiece, settled the horn around himself and set it to his lips.

The mess hall had fallen into utter silence during their short conversation, everyone picking up on the gravity and drama of the moment, even if they didn’t know what was really going on. There was definitely some royal family history involved, Jee was sure of that much…

The prince played a basic scale of notes, warming up, while Jee tried to recall the prince’s mother, the Fire Lady—no, wait, the last Fire Lady had been Fire Lady Ilah, General Iroh’s mother, and she’d died back when Jee had still been a midshipman. Fire Lord Ozai had no Fire Lady at his side. But he’d been married once; the lady’s name had been… Ursa, that was it. Lady Ursa, Prince Zuko’s mother, which would have made her Teiji’s grandmother. When had she died?

…Wait a minute; _had_ she actually died? There was always a day of mourning declared when a member of the royal family passed on. Jee clearly remembered wearing a white armband with his uniform for Fire Lady Ilah. He’d worn one nearly seven years ago for Prince Lu Ten, and again a week later for Fire Lord Azulon. But there’d been no day of mourning declared for the passing of Lady Ursa; what had happened to her?

Then the prince stopped warming up, took a deep breath and started really playing, and Jee’s brain just about skidded to a halt in shock. General Iroh was good on the tsungi horn, but Prince Zuko… Bright Agni Above, the kid was a _master_! Jee knew the music to "Four Seasons, Four Loves" well; he’d played it and heard it played many times over the years. But he’d never heard a more sweet, sad and hauntingly beautiful rendition of that melody in his entire life; he’d stake a month’s pay on it.

Teiji sat wide-eyed and solemn while his new daddy was playing, as if he understood how special the occasion was. The general was dabbing at his eyes when the prince finished, and Jee heard him murmur, "Ursa always loved that song… Beautifully done, nephew."

In the simultaneously shocked and near-reverent silence that filled the mess hall after that performance, Jee could hear the prince’s raw and choked whisper of "Thank you."

"And now, perhaps… ‘Leaves on the Vine’?" Iroh suggested hopefully, with a glance and nod of his bearded chin to indicate Teiji in his lap.

Prince Zuko nodded with a small smile, and put the tsungi horn to his lips again. This time when he played, Teiji clapped his hands and babbled in delight, likely at recognizing the tune; Jee had heard both the royals singing it to the baby to calm or comfort him at one time or another.

"Permission to join in for the next round, sir?" Taozu abruptly spoke up, gesturing hopefully with hisflute. Prince Zuko looked startled, but nodded permission and played the tune again. As he did, not only Taozu but everyone who knew the tune joined in, playing the baby’s favorite lullaby.

After that, the prince joined in with the tsungi horn whenever the crew played a song that he knew. The general had someone fetch his hand drum from his quarters, and he played it whenever Teiji left his ample lap to make a circuit of the room, staring with fascination at everyone with their musical instruments. Several crew members indulgently let him try making music too, patting on drumheads and plucking at strings; most of the time all that came out was noise, but no one minded it at all.

There was no drink stronger than tea in the room, and to save the baby’s innocent ears they didn’t play any of the more adult tunes that were usually popular when they played together. But everyone agreed afterwards that it was the best Music Night they’d had in years.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Five days ago, after hours of nerve-wracking work in Prince Zuko’s cabin, Cheung had finally created a good likeness of Teiji’s poor mother, exactly as the prince had seen her while taking her son away from her cold corpse. General Iroh had also seen the final picture, though both royals had taken pains to keep little Teiji from seeing it.

After agreeing that the picture perfectly matched his memory of the one glimpse he’d gotten of the poor woman, the general had very kindly suggested that Cheung take the picture and his art supplies to a quiet corner elsewhere on the ship, to work on the formal portrait without distractions. The prince had been about to countermand his uncle’s suggestion, but had received a very pointed look from his elder and said nothing.

Since then Cheung had been working at a feverish pace in nearly every moment of his off-duty hours, in the corner of the cargo hold that the quartermaster had said he could use for an art studio. He went through so much of the available supplies while seeking to create perfection for the prince, that Taro bluntly warned him that if he didn’t get it just right _soon_ , his work would have to be put on hold until they restocked at the next port. But he finished just before running out of anything, and when he did, he very carefully transported his work to Prince Zuko’s cabin just before dinnertime.

The prince took a good long look at the portrait that had been made of Teiji’s mother, with a small sad smile on his face, and said Cheung had done excellent work. Instead of having eyes glazed over and mouth slack in death, the still-unnamed woman was smiling out at the viewer, her gaze filled with maternal love; the way Cheung remembered his own mother smiling at him and his little brother and sister in tender moments. And Cheung had done his best to show how such a smile could make even the plainest woman look beautiful.

Prince Zuko had just reached for his money pouch when General Iroh opened the cabin door and came inside holding Teiji, after retrieving him from the ship’s nursery. "Here we are, ready to dress for dinner… ah, Cheung! Is the portrait ready, then?" he asked hopefully.

"See for yourself, Uncle," Prince Zuko said, gesturing to where the portrait lay on his desk. "He did great work; it’s ready for Teiji to see."

The general went over to the desk, still holding Teiji… and made a soft sound of awe, his eyes wide. "Lovely," he whispered, his tone almost reverent.

But Teiji’s reaction to the picture was the most extreme; he shrieked "Mama!" while almost lunging out of the general’s arms, grabbing for the picture. When Iroh hastily pulled him back, he burst into tears, and began howling his grief at the top of his lungs.

Prince Zuko took the baby out of his uncle’s arms, set Teiji to his shoulder and said soothingly while rubbing his tiny back, "Sshhh, I know, I know how much it still hurts… but someday you’ll look at that picture with a smile instead of tears. Now you’ll always have something to remember her by, and you’ll always know she loved you. She loved you so much, Teiji… Sshh, there there…"

General Iroh patted the baby’s back and made soothing whispers as well; Cheung waited patiently while the royals calmed the baby down. After a minute or two, the prince registered his presence in the room again, and arched that lone eyebrow at him as if to ask sharply why he was still here. Then he gave a small start and glance at his money pouch on the dresser, clearly remembering he hadn’t paid Cheung for his work yet.

But Cheung spoke up before the prince could reach for the promised ten gold pieces. "If it may please your highness, I have painted an additional portrait. Permission to show it to you, sir?" The prince looked startled, but gave permission, so Cheung picked up the portrait of the mother to show his other work underneath it:

A double portrait, of both Prince Zuko and his adopted son. The prince was holding the baby in his arms, with Teiji gazing outwards at the viewer while holding onto the prince’s robe with tiny chubby hands. Teiji’s grin was full of a child’s happy innocence, while Prince Zuko looked down at the baby in his arms with a smile both proud and doting. And though he’d included the scar in the picture, the mark that made the prince’s eyes just as mismatched as his son’s, Cheung again had done his very best to show how a loving smile could make anyone beautiful.

Prince Zuko just stared openmouthed at the portrait, struck utterly speechless. But General Iroh was far from speechless: " _Fantastic_! Magnificent! The finest portrait I have ever seen!" as he threw his hands in the air for emphasis. "Cheung, you have truly done a masterwork worthy of the royal palace! Nephew, what did you offer for the first portrait, ten gold? This is worth _a hundred gold coins_! No, two hundred! My cashbox, I must get my cashbox," as he began to bustle joyfully out of the room.

"I most humbly crave your pardon, General," Cheung said while hurriedly stepping in front of him, blocking his way even as he gave his deepest bow, "but this portrait is _not_ for sale. It is offered as a _gift_ to the prince," as he directed his bow towards Prince Zuko.

He’d done the second portrait to make up for all the horrible ways he’d portrayed the prince over the last two years. Part of it was a blatant bribe to keep the prince from burning him alive after seeing all that graffiti, and part of it really was genuine remorse for what he’d done. Cheung wasn’t the kind of guy who liked hurting people, and he’d have felt rotten about someone finding out they’d been the butt of a cruel caricature even if they’d been just a raw recruit, powerless as can be.

Zuko tore his glaze away from the portrait to stare at Cheung, his good eye even wider with utter shock as he silently mouthed ‘for me?’ As if he flat-out could not believe that anyone would ever do anything nice for him, even if it was to make up for being really nasty earlier. Cheung felt something like pity twist his innards, just a little, as he gave a humble confirming nod.

"Th-thank you; I accept," the prince finally said, stumbling over the formal words as if unused to saying them, which he probably was. Cheung bowed low again in response, then humbly accepted ten gold coins in payment for the first portrait and left.

As he made his way through the corridors and down the ladders to the crew quarters, Cheung heaved a sigh of great relief. Painting those portraits had been a lot of work, but as near as he could tell from the prince’s surprise and gratitude, it had really paid off! If not completely forgiven, then he was at least off the hook for all the graffiti he’d drawn for so—

"Cheung!" he heard, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and saw Prince Zuko standing right in front of him, blocking the hallway. How in the world had the prince gotten there ahead of him? "Y-yes, your highness?" he stammered.

"Your graffiti…"

_Oh, hells._

"You made my uncle look too fat. I mean, he _is_ fat, but he doesn’t really want to be so fat. I want to commission another portrait, one of him holding Teiji this time, but he has to look thinner. Um, not _thin_ , but…" as the prince rubbed the back of his head while looking down, clearly searching for words to describe what he wanted.

"Rather stout but still fit, your highness?" Cheung dared to say.

"Yes, exactly!" as the prince nodded vigorously. "Another ten gold pieces, for a portrait of him with Teiji, just as good as the first two. And you have to keep it secret; I want it to be a surprise for him."

"Yes, sir!" as Cheung beamed at him

Then the prince glared at him. "And if you do a good enough job, _that_ will make up for the koala-sheep."

"(gulp) Yes, sir…"

　

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to say that I do remember that ‘dada’ isn’t Teiji’s first word; he said ‘Mama’ when crying for his mother in chapter 4. But only the members of the team that went on the mission upriver know about that little incident, instead of the crew at large; so far as most of them are concerned, Teiji’s first word was ‘dada’.
> 
> Also, before anyone at this site asks about it: No, Katara’s not pregnant as a result of her mistake with Jet. Criminey, I’m not -that- cruel to my characters.


	7. Distressed

 

It had been nearly two weeks since the crew of the _Wani_ had added a one-year-old baby to their roster, the prince’s adopted son.  Everyone had more-or-less adjusted to his presence aboard, though there were still a few missteps now and then:

 

Down in the mess hall at dinnertime, Tadao was telling a ‘sea story’ about his time aboard the naval ship _Suzikyu_ to the other people at his table, and got caught up enough in the tall tale to forget who else was near enough to hear him.  “And we all knew that as soon as the skipper came in and saw the mess, there would be piles of shit hitting the fan!  So we--”

 

“Hey!” grizzled old Anzu interrupted with a scowl, gesturing over at the royals’ table, where Prince Zuko had paused while feeding Teiji to look over at Tadao with the beginnings of a frown.  “Where’s your manners?  We got royalty _and_ a baby present, so watch your fucking language!”

 

Anzu didn’t understand at first why the prince and the general traded startled glances, and then began quietly sniggering.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

By his third day in the nursery, little Teiji was not just walking but _running_ around the room, his high-pitched giggle and a chuckling attendant always trailing behind him.  Some people figured that meant he’d actually learned to walk before Prince Zuko had found him, and had just taken a while to find his sea legs; other crew members thought it meant that Teiji was one of those rare ‘born sailors’, people who were honestly more comfortable on a rocking boat than on unmoving dry land. 

 

Botan, who had two young daughters back in the Fire Nation, delighted in playing with the prince’s little boy.  When his two hours of ‘Teiji watch’ were up, he tucked the laughing scamp under his arm like a calf-piglet before answering the knock on the door.  Taozu stood on the other side, with a smile and what looked like a newly made toy drum in his hand.  “Good afternoon, Botan!  Diaper status?”

 

“Changed him about ten minutes ago,” Botan reported, while sneaking a last few tickles to the happily squealing child in his arms.  “Words status: he’s added another one today!  When we were rolling the tiger-dillo ball back and forth he said ‘ball’, clear as sunlight!  …Well, mostly clear; you can definitely tell what he means by it!” 

 

Taozu grinned at the news, before standing at attention and snapping a salute.  “I stand ready to relieve you, crewman!”

 

It was a good deal harder with an armful of rambunctious baby, but Botan managed a decent salute before handing Teiji over with a wry, “I stand relieved.” 

 

00oo00oo00oo00

 

An hour later, Taozu was indecently proud of himself for having taught Teiji another word; ‘pa-da’, for the little stuffed panda toy he dragged with him everywhere he went.  He made the panda bounce excitedly up and down at having been successfully named, and told Teiji that his daddy would be very proud of him too.

 

But now Teiji was hungry, and Taozu was pretty sure that they were already late for Snack Time, when the cook’s assistant brought Teiji some rice balls or other little treats to tide him over until dinner.  What was keeping Sheng?  Had something happened in the galley?

 

After making sure Teiji was occupied with his little wooden farm set, Taozu opened the nursery door to flag down a passing crewman and have someone find out when Teiji would be getting his snack.  He saw Kunio ten feet away, climbing up the ladder between decks, and called out, “Kunio!  Can you find out what’s keeping Sheng?  Teiji’s getting hungry.”

 

Instead of going back down the ladder and through the open hatch to the third deck, the fastest route to the galley, Kunio just grunted, “I’ve got work to do,” popped the normally closed hatch above him open, and continued upwards to the main deck.  Taozu sent an irritated glare after him, reflecting that he should have known better than to ask; Kunio never did favors for anybody, unless he expected to get something out of it in return.

 

Just as he was about to close the door and just go back to waiting with the baby,  Taozu looked the other direction and saw Sheng turning the corner at the far end of the passageway, with a baking tray and bamboo carrier in his hands instead of the usual small basket.  With a two-handed load to carry, Sheng must have decided to detour clear over to the mechanical lift that ran between the decks, instead of coming up the ladders. Sheng saw Taozu looking at him and called out with a smile, “Almond cookies, fresh out of the oven!  Chu Si wants Teiji to taste-test them!”

 

“Almond cookies?  I hereby volunteer to take part in the taste-test! Because Teiji’s going to need a baby-talk interpreter, you know,” Taozu said with a grin, as he held the door open and beckoned Sheng closer.

 

Sheng came trotting down the passageway, with the delicious aroma of fresh-baked almond cookies wafting ahead of him; the stoneware baking tray was keeping them warm and the warm air rising was spreading the aroma even further.  The thought crossed Taozu’s mind that he wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find General Iroh trotting down the passageway after the tray; the general made no secret of his fondness for cookies…

 

Just then Sheng abruptly lost his smile, as he looked down near Taozu’s feet and cried, “Look out!”

 

Taozu looked down in alarm—a split-second too late, as Teiji slipped right past his feet and went running out into the passageway!  “Teiji, no!  Bad baby,” he scolded as he swooped down to catch the boy, but missed him by a hair. “Don’t leave the—NO!”  The last word was almost screamed, as he saw Teiji running, giggling like it was just another game of chase around the room—but heading straight for the open hatch to the third deck!  Bright Agni, if he fell down the ladder well—

 

“ _No_!” Sheng shouted, as he saw the danger too.  Taozu lunged again, grabbing desperately—

 

While Sheng flung the baking tray down the passageway, cookies flying everywhere in a sugary cascade—

 

And the baking tray landed **_on its edge_** in front of the ladder well, and directly in front of Teiji like a miniature stone wall.  Teiji hit the tray and bounced off it, landing on his diapered butt.

 

Startled by the sudden impact, the baby screwed up his face and began to cry, while Taozu and Sheng stared first at the baking tray, then at each other with nearly identical expressions of shock and growing dismay.

 

00oo00oo00oo00

 

Up on the main deck, Zuko had just finished berating a sullen Kunio for ignoring the ship’s posted schedule for firebending practice, and using that particular hatch during the off-limits hours.  Uncle Iroh and Lieutenant Jee were frowning at Kunio as well, because his violation of regulations was also a safety hazard. Popping that hatch open in the middle of a heated sparring match was just asking to catch a fireball in the face; Kunio was damn lucky that this match hadn’t actually begun yet.

 

Kunio had muttered the usual ‘Yes, sir” and “No, sir” at the appropriate moments during his chewing-out, while Corporal Akio had helpfully secured the hatch again. They all knew that Zuko was impatient to begin his three-way sparring session with Lieutenant Jee and Corporal Akio, while his uncle refereed. Now that Teiji had nursery attendants, Zuko had found the time to meditate with fire again, but he hadn’t had a decent sparring match or any other active bending practice in well over a week.

 

Once Zuko was finished with him, Kunio slouched his way out of the restricted zone. An instant after he crossed the painted line marking the sparring area, Iroh bellowed from where he was sitting, “Begin!”

 

Zuko readied a fireball—

 

“ ** _Hold_**!”

 

WHAT?!  Nobody had even thrown anything yet!  Zuko spun and glared at his uncle, but Uncle Iroh was frowning at the closed hatch, and the spinning handles indicating it was being opened rapidly from below.

 

As he glared at the hatch, already thinking of all the heated words he’d use on this next idiot, Zuko heard a sound that was faint, muffled by the deckplates and obscured by all the regular noises of a ship at sea, but still instantly recognizable to his sharp ears: Teiji was crying!   

 

Instantly alarmed, Zuko was already heading for the hatch when it abruptly popped open and Sheng came bursting out, scrambling onto the deck and running for the rail like someone had set him on fire.  Teiji’s wails wafted up through the open hatch, as well as another voice; Taozu shouting with alarm, “Somebody stop him!”

 

Zuko hit the crewman with a flying tackle, knocking him to the deck; they tumbled until Zuko pinned him down to snarl at him, with smoke pouring out between his teeth, “ ** _What did you do to my son_?!** ” But Teiji’s wails of fear and pain were pulling at him like a grappling hook in his heart; he scrambled to his feet again and headed for the hatch, while ordering a wide-eyed Akio and an already scowling Jee, “Hold him there until I get back!”

 

He jumped through the hatch, grabbing the ladder only long enough to push off it and land on the deck below, facing the nursery.  Teiji was out in the hallway, clinging to Taozu as the crewman crouched down to comfort him, but still entirely too close to the ladder well for Zuko’s peace of mind—and what was that baking tray doing there on the deck?  He dismissed the question as irrelevant as he swooped in to take Teiji into his own arms, his voice shifting almost automatically to soothing tones as he stepped further away from the ladder:  “Sshhh, little one, I’m here, Daddy’s here, sshhh…”

 

There was no blood on Teiji that he could see, though there were reddish spots on his nose and chin—something had hit his face?  Not too hard, though; the redness was already fading.  Struggling to keep his voice to that same even and soothing tone, he asked, “Taozu, what happened?  What did Sheng do to my son?”

 

Taozu paused, just for a heartbeat or two before saying with an earnest fervor that absolutely demanded the hearer’s full attention, “He _saved Teiji’s life_ , sir. Teiji ran out of the nursery when I held the door open a little too long—my deepest apologies, sir, I offer no excuses but I _swear_ it will never happen again!  But Teiji got out while Sheng was coming down the hall, and he ran straight for the ladder well!  If Sheng hadn’t stopped him in time, Teiji might have fallen in before I could reach him!  _Sheng saved your son_ , sir!”

 

Zuko blinked twice before asking in utter bewilderment, “So why was he trying to escape, just now?” 

 

Taozu’s brows drew together in a mixture of worry, wonder and dread as he answered,   “Because of just _how_ he saved the baby…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Up on the deck, Akio was pinning Sheng’s arms up over his head to the deck while Lieutenant Jee pinned his legs, keeping him face-down.  Sheng’s head was turned enough for Akio to see his face, and the expression of utter misery as he cried, “Just let me go—let me _drown_!  Please, let me die now; I can’t bring dishonor on my family!”

 

Let him drown?!  What the crawling Koh had just _happened_ below?    Had he hurt the baby somehow?  Akio could hear the little guy crying, the sound echoing up through the still open hatch.  General Iroh had been on his hands and knees next to the hatch, peering anxiously down to the second deck; now he was straightening up to sit back on his haunches, looking at Sheng and looking very worried indeed…

 

The baby’s crying quieted and stopped, quickly enough that whatever happened, he hadn’t been hurt too badly.  A couple of minutes later, Prince Zuko came back up through the hatch, carrying Teiji in his sling.  The baby looked okay, and Prince Zuko looked… troubled.  He was frowning, but not the way he usually did; Akio thought it was more of a puzzled and worried frown than an angry one.

 

Prince Zuko crouched next to Sheng’s head and said in conversational tones, “Seaman Sheng, I’ve seen your personnel record.  Born to parents Teru and Ling in Yu Dao colony, in the Year of the Ostrich-Horse. Listed as a non-bender. Enlisted in the Fire Nation Navy at eighteen years of age, and assigned to food preparation. Your first three performance evaluations had high marks.  Then you were brought up on charges of assaulting an officer; the record states that, without any provocation, you hit Lieutenant Buyah hard enough to give him a concussion.  Rather than spending time in the brig, you were reduced in rank and transferred to the _Wani_.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Sheng moaned, his expression filled with dread.

 

“And do you swear _on all your ancestors_ that every word of that is true?”

 

After a long, tense silence Sheng whispered, “Nearly all of it, sir.  _Please_ , just let me jump overboard now, and spare my innocent family…”

 

General Iroh had come over to crouch next to his nephew, and now he spoke up with a firm, “As I’ve told Prince Zuko before, a crewman’s personnel record often does not tell the whole story.  Tell me, Sheng, the reason you hit Buyah so hard that when he finally woke up, he didn’t even remember the assault… was it because he witnessed you earthbending?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Sheng whispered.

 

_Earthbending_?! Sheng was an _Earth Kingdom spy_?! Akio reflexively tightened and heated his grip on the traitor’s wrists, until Sheng gave a choked cry of pain.

 

The prince snapped, “ _Corporal_!”

 

“Sir!” Akio said smartly, still holding on.

 

 “Let go of his wrists.”

 

Akio stared at him in confusion.  “Sir?”

 

“ _Now_ , corporal!” as the prince glared at him.

 

Akio let go of the traitor’s wrists and backed off, eyeing the marks left behind, the reddened skin already starting to blister.  Sheng started to reflexively curl his burned wrists in towards his chest, but froze when the prince grabbed the nearest one.

 

Prince Zuko looked the burns over with a critical eye, then ordered, “Someone fetch Ming-Hoa and some burn salve.”

 

“In the meantime, if I may, Prince Zuko?” General Iroh said quickly, gesturing at Sheng’s wrists.  The prince nodded and scooted back a pace, so the general could move closer and gently grasp Sheng’s wrists, one at a time, his brow furrowed with concentration and one hand held high with two fingers extended.  After a few seconds Akio saw the air above the general’s fingers shimmer with heat waves, and blinked as he realized that he was witnessing a master-level firebending move; redirecting heat to cool something down instead of heating it up.  By drawing the heat out of the burns so quickly, General Iroh was minimizing the damage Akio had done.  But why were they being so considerate of an Earth Kingdom spy?!

 

While the general worked, the prince growled at Sheng, “By Agni, by—by Oma and Shu, and by all your ancestors, Sheng… tell me the truth.  When did you start spying for the Earth Kingdom?”

 

“Never, sir; I swear it!” Sheng burst out, his voice choked with tears of either pain or anguish.  “I’m an earthbender, yes, but _I’m not a spy_!  I’m a Fire Nation citizen, loyal to the Fire Lord! I swear by every ancestor and every spirit in existence!”

 

“Then what’s an earthbender doing enlisting in the Navy?  I thought all earthbenders got sick and weak when they were out at sea; that’s why the earthbender prisons are on stationary barges.”

 

“N-not all earthbenders get seasick, sir.  More earthbenders do than non-benders, but some can handle the ocean all right.”

 

“I suspect most of the weakness comes from being cut off from their element,” General Iroh put in, eyeing Sheng shrewdly while drawing the heat out of his left wrist.  “But you’re not entirely cut off from it, are you?  Most of the baking trays we have aboard are stoneware instead of metal, and that small statue of Fire Lord Azulon you keep next to your bunk as part of your personal effects, is a ceramic figure.”

 

Prince Zuko looked sharply at his uncle as the general spoke.  After a tense pause he said accusingly or incredulously, “You knew?!  You _knew_ he’s an earthbender?”

 

“I suspected,” the general countered calmly.  “There has been a rumor floating about for some years now that a large number of bending Fire Nation citizens born in the oldest colonies, such as Yu Dao, are actually earthbenders instead of firebenders.  But it is a rumor that no one ever speaks of in public, or when any homeland or government officials are within hearing distance.  Not considering what would be sure to happen if such an accusation was leveled at anyone…”

 

“What?” Prince Zuko asked, before giving a slight start and a grimace, although it seemed directed more at himself than anyone else. “Right; they’d be sent to the prison barges.”

 

“If the magistrate handling the case was feeling merciful,” General Iroh said somberly.  “But a far more likely outcome would be that they’d be _executed_ , as presumed spies for the Earth Kingdom, and their immediate families as well.  All of them would be put to death; Fire Lord Ozai will not countenance even the suspicion of treason.”

 

And Sheng started sobbing, “ _Please_ , your highness!  My little brother is only eight years old!  And he’s a firebender, like my mother!  Don’t condemn him to death; please don’t tell—Please, let the dishonor end with me; just let me die!”

 

“Bright Agni,” Lieutenant Jee swore as he let go of Sheng’s ankles and backed off, staring in shock.  “The suicide rates, the number of ‘accidental’ deaths; _that’s_ why they’re over four times higher for recruits from the old colonies!”

 

“Very likely.” The general’s face was downright grim, though as Lieutenant Jee let go of the ankles, he rested a firm hand on Sheng’s back, keeping him in place on the deck.  “Brave young men and women who, seeing their secret about to be exposed, chose certain death for themselves rather than risk their families.”

 

Akio felt like he’d been punched in the chest, as he heard the general’s words and suddenly remembered Mao.  Mao, who’d been from Yu Dao just like Sheng was; Akio had served alongside him on the _Makoto_.  They’d been more than just drinking buddies; Akio had considered Mao a good friend, maybe even his best friend, even though Mao had been a non-bender.  Then one day, the morning after they’d pulled out of port from a shore leave, Akio had come back to the berthing area from standing the mid-watch to find Mao lying facedown on the deck with still-warm blood pooling around him, and a dagger buried in his guts. 

 

Akio had sounded the alarm, convinced someone had murdered his friend, though he had no idea who or why.  But when the captain had come down to see, bearing a crumpled message in his hand, he’d just shaken his head and called it a suicide.  Without even asking if Mao had any enemies or if there was a suicide note! 

 

Akio had heard later that just before learning of Mao’s death, Captain Liu—who had also come from the colonies—had received a hawk-message from the commander of the local shore patrol; a message he’d refused to let anyone see.  But Akio hadn’t paid that bit of information any mind, too focused on finding out what had really happened to Mao; on who had killed his friend and why.  But all his poking around and investigating on his own over the next three weeks had ruffled too many officers’ feathers, or at least he’d always _thought_ that had been the reason the _Makoto_ ’s captain had ordered his transfer to the _Wani_ …

 

While Akio was still trying to wrap his brain around the idea that one of his best friends might have secretly been an earthbender, the general looked straight at his nephew, with that same grim expression.  “Sheng’s fate is in your hands, Prince Zuko.  His fate, and his family’s.”

 

Prince Zuko’s face was pale, his good eye wide.  Utter silence reined on deck, as everyone waited to hear what he would say.

 

Then he stood up from his crouch, drawing a deep breath before saying in almost ringing tones, “Understand this, everyone.  Only a few minutes ago, my son was in _mortal peril_ ; about to fall down a ladder well, probably to his immediate death.  Sheng prevented that from happening, but he did so by earthbending the stoneware tray he was carrying, in front of a witness.  He exposed his deepest secret, to save an innocent child. His behavior is _not_ that of an Earth Kingdom spy, but of a Fire Nation citizen and a good man!”

 

After a pause to let that sink in, he looked down at Sheng and proclaimed, “Seaman Sheng, your request for suicide is denied.  But your personnel record states you are a nonbender, and I see no reason to change that.”   

 

Then he turned to Lieutenant Jee and ordered, “Lieutenant, call for an all-hands assembly on deck just before dinner tonight!  I want everyone aboard the _Wani_ to give me their _solemn oaths,_ swearing by Agni and their ancestors that they will also keep Sheng’s secret, clear to their ashes!”

 

Sheng burst into tears again, probably tears of relief and joy, as General Iroh let him go and leaped to his feet with his face wreathed in smiles. “Permission to be the first to give that oath, Prince Zuko!”

 

“Uh, permission granted,” the young prince said with some bemusement while looking down at Sheng, who had gotten up on hands and knees only long enough to throw himself into a full kowtow at his feet.  The words were a little incoherent in between all the sobs, but Akio got the gist of it; Sheng swore to faithfully serve the prince until his dying breath, and so would his children and his children’s children and so on until the end of the world.  Then Ming-Hoa arrived with bandages and burn salves, and the prince said, looking a little uncomfortable, that Sheng could start serving him by getting his wrists treated. 

 

The doctor looked at Sheng with raised eyebrows, clearly wondering how the cook’s assistant had ended up in the sparring match area with his wrists burned, but said nothing as he started working.  The royals left him to his work and walked away, and after they left Akio sidled up to Sheng and mumbled, “Listen, I’m sorry about your wrists.  I thought… I’m sorry. But, uh, while you were growing up back home, did you know a guy named Mao?  A little taller than you, round-faced, his dad was a fisherman…”  When Sheng nodded, Akio took a deep breath before pressing further, “Was he…”

 

Sheng nodded again, sadly.  “He was better at it than I am.”

 

“Ashes.” Akio rubbed at his eyes, denying the tears stinging at them.  Why hadn’t Mao said anything to him?  He’d been ready to take a spear for his friend; Mao could have trusted him…

 

After a couple of deep breaths, Akio looked Sheng in the eye again as he said, “Mao never gave me a chance to keep his secret… but I’ll keep yours. I’ll swear my oath in front of the prince later on, but I swear it to you right now, Sheng. And I’m sorry again about the wrists…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Ming-Hoa really tried not to be a gossip or busybody; he took his healer’s oath of confidentiality seriously. But he was burning to know what secret Sheng had, that it seemed like everyone but him knew about but was swearing to keep!

 

After treating Sheng and sending him back to his duties, he sought out Lieutenant Jee, and found his friend just as he was leaving the engine room, calling over his shoulder, “Remember, half an hour before the dinner gong!”

 

“What happens half an hour before the dinner gong?” Ming-Hoa asked as he fell in alongside Jee.

 

“An all-hands assembly on deck; the captain announced it just before you arrived to treat Sheng,” Jee said distractedly, while looking down at the roster in his hand.  “Let me finish making the rounds, and then I’ll come to sickbay and tell you all about it.”

 

Ming-Hoa turned to give his friend a raised eyebrow as he echoed, “The captain?  Jee, you once told me you’d _never_ refer to the Royal Pain as that; you said that he was a prince by his birth, but the title of Captain had to be _earned_.”

 

Jee gave him a sharp look right back as he almost growled, “He’s _not_ the Royal Pain anymore, and you’d know that if you’d been paying attention to anything besides your scrolls and herbal compounds.  As for the title… he’s well on his way to earning it.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

No one had announced that the scheduled sparring session had been canceled, but Iroh felt that recent events had certainly superseded it, so he quietly nudged Zuko and Teiji back to their cabins.  He had a strong feeling that Zuko would need to talk about what he’d just done; an action that he had no doubt Ozai would **_not_** have approved of.

 

And sure enough, once they were behind closed doors, Zuko almost whispered, “Uncle… am I doing the right thing?”

 

“Yes, Prince Zuko,” Iroh assured his nephew with an emphatic nod.  “There is a time when the letter of the law must be disregarded, in order to preserve the **_spirit_** of the law; to uphold justice and fairness, and grant mercy when it is well-deserved. You acted as a prince should act, as a true leader of men, and I am very proud of you for it!”

 

Zuko’s shoulders relaxed at Iroh’s words of praise, the worried expression on his face dissolving into a genuinely happy smile.  Iroh’s own proud grin turned a bit rueful as he admitted, “I am not sure even Lu Ten would have been so compassionate towards Sheng, after such a shocking revelation.  I must admit that when **_I_** was your age, I—nephew?!” he gasped in concern, because Zuko had abruptly gone stock-still, his face utterly stricken and turned white as a funeral sheet. 

 

His nephew abruptly turned away and buried his scarred face in Teiji’s mop of hair, hiding his expression, but Iroh knew what he had seen; what he didn’t know was _why_.  He went after Zuko, laying a hand on the teen’s shoulder as he asked plaintively, “What did I say wrong? I meant only praise; that your compassion is…” He replayed his words in his mind, and flinched in parental guilt as he realized what he’d done; compared _his own son_ to Zuko’s noble behavior, and found Lu Ten somewhat wanting in the comparison. He’d meant to finish the contrast with a scornful reference to himself at Zuko’s age—as brash and intolerant as he’d been back then, he might well have executed Sheng on the spot!  But dear Agni, how many times had Zuko heard his father compare him unfavorably to Azula?  If Zuko now thought him no better than Ozai—

 

Wait.  No, that didn’t fit his nephew’s reaction.  Zuko’s stricken look had contained something like betrayal… but also despair.  Despair for himself, not indignation on poor Lu Ten’s behalf.

 

Iroh spoke very seldom of his son, because it still hurt so much to know that he would never again see him in this world.  But Zuko spoke of him even less, though every so often Iroh caught him glancing at the portrait of Lu Ten that Iroh kept in his quarters.  As a young child, Zuko had adored and emulated his older cousin, often saying out loud that he wanted to hurry and grow up so they could go into battle together.  And when Iroh had first returned home from the failed siege, grieving terribly for his dead son, at first little Zuko had quietly grieved with him, saying how much he missed Lu Ten too.  But a few months later, after Iroh had begun taking an interest in Zuko, trying to give him the parental affection that Ozai never would… all reminiscences and indeed all mention of Lu Ten had stopped cold.

 

During Iroh’s pained musings, Teiji had started chewing on his fist again, and Zuko had fetched him a teething toy before sitting at his desk, bouncing the boy on his knee, chanting a children’s rhyme to him, and very pointedly **_not_** looking in Iroh’s direction at all.  Whatever was wrong, Zuko had no interest in discussing it, that much was clear.  But that look, though brief, had been so raw and full of pain… Iroh knew he could not let it go, not if the hurt was still so great after all these years. 

 

Sitting down next to his nephew and near-grandson, Iroh spoke slowly.  “Zuko… I know why speaking of Lu Ten is painful for me.  Now that you are a father as well, surely you can see how much of a hole in your life and your heart would be carved out if you lost your son.  But why does speaking of Lu Ten pain you so much, even now?  You were cousins, yes, and close friends when we were all home together, but with all the war campaigns we were on, for nearly half your childhood you knew him only in letters. I do not mean to belittle your grief, but… Is it more than grief that pains you?”

 

Eyes still focused on Teiji instead of Iroh, Zuko smiled through gritted teeth and said in a lilting singsong, “I think we should talk about something else right now, don’t you?  Which tooth do you think will come in next, Teiji?”

 

But this time Iroh would not be deterred.  “Nephew, I had thought that we had come to a better understanding of each other lately.  But if you do not want to speak of this… I shall simply start quoting tea proverbs to you. Morning, noon and night. And when I run out of tea proverbs—which will not happen for at least four days, possibly not for a full week—then I shall move on to proverbs about wine.  And after several days of that--”

 

The look Zuko gave him now was of sheer horror, just before words came tumbling out: “All right all right, I’ll talk!  I—I hate that I’ll never be as good as Lu Ten, either!  And that one day you’ll realize that and…”

_Ohhhh, my dear boy_. Iroh looked at him sadly but steadily as he responded to the unfinished sentence. “That I will what, Zuko?  That I will leave you?”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

“…Yes,” Zuko finally admitted in a raw whisper as Azula’s words, still painful after all these years, echoed in his head again.

 

.It had happened a few months after Uncle had come back from Ba Sing Se; soon after he’d stopped looking so despairing all the time and started actually taking an interest in what was going on around him again.  Uncle had invited Zuko to have tea with him in the palace east wing’s garden, and Zuko was really looking forward to it.  Spending time with his uncle wouldn’t be like spending time with his mother again, he knew that, but… he was just so lonely, desperate to spend time with someone who wasn’t a kowtowing servant or actively despising him!  He and Uncle used to get along great three years ago, back before the Siege of Ba Sing Se.  Even when Lu Ten was too busy with officer stuff to play with his cousin, Uncle always seemed to find time for his nephew.  He’d tell Earth Kingdom jokes, and serve tea and sweets, and they’d have tickle-fights, and lots of fun together.  Having tea together could be the first step towards their having good times again.

 

Zuko normally didn’t care much at all about what he was wearing, but this time he actually made the servants wait with three different outfits on display while he considered which one to wear.  Something nice, because this was a special occasion, the first time Uncle had invited him to tea in three long years.  But not too nice, because if Uncle really wanted to recapture the good old times, they’d end up tickle-fighting and rolling around on the grass and stuff, and the servants always looked so distressed when he played in his good clothes.

 

He’d just decided on what he was going to wear when Azula came in without knocking, like she always did, and leaned against the door with an expression that probably looked sad and concerned, if you didn’t notice the gleeful look gleaming in her amber eyes.  “Poor Uncle,” was all she said at first, with a shake of her head. 

 

“What about Uncle?  What did you do to him?” Zuko had demanded, instantly suspicious.

 

“Do to him?  Nothing at all,” Azula said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “I just happened to watch him getting ready for the tea party, that’s all.  And I heard him muttering to himself…”  She dropped her voice two octaves, then smiled in a mockery of Uncle Iroh’s old grin as she began graveling, “Oh, what kind of tea to serve?  Jasmine; that’s Lu Ten’s favorite…” She paused, then turned the smile into a frown as she continued, “No, I must call him Zuko.  He is not my Lu Ten… not yet.  And cookies, we must have cookies.  Honey-spice cookies, Lu Ten always loved those…”

 

She dropped the act, and shook her head again.  “Pathetic, isn’t it?  He still hasn’t accepted that Lu Ten is gone forever; now he’s decided to turn _you_ into a copy of our cousin.  It’s really too bad that you’re going to fail to measure up to Lu Ten’s standards, Zuzu, just like you fail at everything else.  I give it six months, a year at most, before he figures that out for himself; then he’ll probably drop you in favor of some orphan boy who looks enough like our cousin did…”

 

“You’re lying!” Zuko snarled at her, his fists clenched, even while his stomach sank inside him.

 

She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Am I?  Just wait until you see what he serves at tea today.  But don’t mind my words of warning; just enjoy your tea party today, and your own pathetic attempts to turn our uncle into your mother-substitute.  You’re both so pathetic, you deserve each other,” as she turned and sashayed out of the room.

 

“Azula always lies!  Azula always lies,” Zuko chanted desperately to himself after she left. But he knew that wasn’t accurate; Azula wouldn’t lie, when she was sure that the _truth_ would be even more hurtful.  And there was a nasty little voice of doubt inside him, that muttered that after all the times he’d failed to live up to his family’s standards, he should have known better than to think Uncle would like him just as he was…

 

The servants did their best to act like they’d seen and heard nothing in the last few minutes, and finally, he calmed down enough to choose what he would wear to tea: some very fine clothes, almost good enough for appearing in the royal court, and very unsuitable for rough-housing in.

 

When he arrived in the garden, Uncle Iroh served him jasmine tea and honey-spice cookies.

 

Zuko had never cared much for tea, but normally he loved honey-spice cookies.  That day, however, they tasted like ashes in his mouth.

 

After they’d eaten, Uncle Iroh tried to interest him in a game of pai sho.  Lu Ten had played pai sho; Zuko remembered his cousin promising to teach him and Azula how to play it when he returned from Ba Sing Se. When Uncle gestured again to the pai sho table he’d set up nearby, a hopeful expression on his face, Zuko said he had studying to do instead and returned to his quarters. 

 

Once he was back in his rooms, he dismissed all the servants, climbed inside the closet where nobody could hear him and cried until he had no more tears to shed.  Then he dried his tears, put on a hard expression and climbed back out to get on with his day, determined that would be the only time he’d _ever_ cry over that old man.  He’d never let Uncle Iroh get close enough to his heart that it would hurt when he got shoved aside, when Zuko failed to measure up to Lu Ten.   Never again…

 

But now in the present, Uncle was looking at him with what could best be described as affectionate exasperation.  “Nephew, I love you dearly, but I wish you would _think things through_ sometimes.  I’ve stayed with you all these years, through banishment and wandering the world and being subject to all the insults you’ve heaped on me, over and over again.  After sticking with you through all of that, how can you _possibly_ think that I would leave you now, or _ever_?”

 

Zuko had no answer for that, and the tightness in his throat would have prevented him from answering if he did.  So instead, still holding Teiji steady on his knee with one hand, he used the other to pull his uncle in for a desperately apologetic and needy one-armed hug.  A hug that Uncle Iroh returned with interest, while inside Zuko’s chest something cracked and loosened, like an iron band around his heart had broken and fallen away.  He didn’t know it was possible to feel both heartily ashamed of himself, and ridiculously happy at the same time…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Half an hour before dinner, the crew had a formal assembly on the main deck.  Prince Zuko reiterated what had happened earlier that day, for the benefit of the very few aboard who hadn’t heard the gossip flying all over the ship since then (only Gen and Bohai, as it turned out, because they had the mid-watch that week and had only woken up just before the assembly.)

 

The prince declared before them all that, despite his earthbending, Sheng had shown by his actions that he was a Fire Nation citizen and a good member of their crew.   Then he called Sheng out of ranks to stand before the assembly, and bowed to him; not a deep bow, just a shade deeper than the minor inclination of the head that royalty usually gave to acknowledge a commoner, but it was still surprising considering that Sheng hadn’t had time to bow first. 

 

A fact that Sheng hastily made up for, by throwing himself into a full kowtow again.  While he was down there, Prince Zuko formally swore by Agni and his royal ancestors that he would keep the secret of Sheng’s bending safe, clear to his ashes.  Then he told Sheng to stand up, and receive the same oath from each individual member of the crew; the general glare he gave the assembly while saying so made it clear that no matter what they personally thought of earthbenders, this was _not_ open to negotiation.

 

General Iroh was first in line, and he swore his oath loud and clear for all to hear.  Lieutenant Jee went next, and after also swearing the oath without hesitation, he went to relieve Jiro at the helm, so the navigator could come down and swear his oath as well.  One by one, every member of the crew swore to never reveal Sheng’s secret to anyone.  Whether they did it because they genuinely liked Sheng as a shipmate, because they felt they owed it to him for saving little Teiji’s life, or only because the prince had ordered them to do it, was their own business.

 

Afterwards, though, Prince Zuko pulled Lieutenant Jee aside for a quiet word.  “I didn’t like the look in Kunio’s eyes back there, Lieutenant.  If anyone’s going to forswear their oaths just to ruin Sheng’s life--”

 

“He’d be the first suspect,” Jee finished for him with a grim nod.  “He’s already accompanied by at least two men I trust whenever he goes ashore, because by himself he’s apt to cause trouble for someone. We’ll make sure to keep a close eye on his correspondence for a while too.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

 

The next morning when the royal family came to the mess hall for breakfast, Lieutenant Jee and the navigator approached their table with respectful bows and informed Zuko,  “Your highness, we are about to enter prime fishing waters for this region.”

 

“Fresh-caught fish would be wonderful to have for dinner tonight,” Iroh said promptly with a wide smile.  “Not that our cook isn’t marvelous with all the culinary delights he can make with smoked fish, of course!”

 

Zuko nodded agreement; they hadn’t had fresh-caught fish for their meals since before confronting the Avatar on Kyoshi Island.  He told Jee, “Set up the working parties for trawling operations.  Cancel the nursery watch for the day if necessary.”

 

Some of the crewmen listening in were almost visibly disappointed—most of them the men on this week’s nursery watch—but others greeted the news with interest; trawling was a messy business, but at least it was a change of pace from their usual routine, and they’d all enjoy fresh-caught fish for a change.

 

Lieutenant Jee nodded acceptance of the orders, which he’d clearly anticipated; he whipped out a slate with names already scrawled on it and began assigning several crewmen their new duties after breakfast.

 

Uncle Iroh took Teiji back to his cabin instead of to the nursery after breakfast, while Zuko went to the bridge and approved the course change and greatly reduced speed that the navigator recommended. Once they were slowed to trawling speed, Zuko made his rounds of the rest of the ship, noting all the duty changes.  In addition to assembling the team of mechanics that would convert the catapult into a crane for trawling, Jee had tripled the number of lookouts, making sure there were wary eyes peering in all directions while the catapult, their sole long-range weapon, was disabled.  The _Wani_ usually sailed in waters hostile to the Fire Nation, and while what little remained of the Earth Kingdom’s naval forces weren’t much of a threat to them, pirates and Water Tribe raiders were another matter.

 

It took the mechanic team an hour and a half to convert the catapult into a crane with the parts they kept in storage, while Tetsuko and Tadao methodically checked over every inch of the large net they’d be using and mended the few frayed strands they found.  Then they hooked the net and the load-sensing bell up to the crane, and lowered the net over the side into the water.  After that, it was just a matter of waiting until the ship cruised over a school of fish large enough to fill the net.

 

Zuko came back on deck as the mechanics started putting their tools away, and informed them all, “Well done, and in good time!” (He wondered if he should count that as eight compliments delivered for the day, since it was an eight-man crew, or only one towards his daily quota.)

 

The mechanics all beamed at the praise, and Lieutenant Jee smiled too before offering, “Perhaps we can have that sparring match while we’re waiting for the catch, sir?” 

 

“Excellent idea,” Zuko declared, while trying not to look too eager; Sheng’s revelation yesterday had resulted in his scheduled sparring session being canceled, and after so long without doing any serious bending at all, he was beginning to feel almost itchy for the exercise.

 

“If your highness permits, I can mind your son in the nursery while the general referees the sparring,” Botan volunteered with a smile as he finished putting his tools away and started wiping the oil off his hands.  Zuko agreed with a return smile, and went to let his uncle know of the plan while he got into his sparring clothes.  

 

Fifteen minutes later he and Jee were dressed and ready for sparring, just waiting for Akio to arrive after changing.  Uncle Iroh was on deck too, but before handing Teiji over to Botan he declared it was a good time for his grandson to get some fresh air as well as a little education on Fire Nation ingenuity.  The mechanics still on deck watched with quiet pride as Iroh pointed out the catapult-cum-crane for Teiji’s benefit and explained what it was used for.  

 

“And then they lowered the net down, down, down into the water,” Iroh told the baby, while making exaggerated gestures with his free hand. “Now we just wait for some fish to swim into the net!  And when they do, the sudden drag on the net will pull hard on the rope, and make that bell ring,” as he pointed to it—and a split-second later, the bell rang!

 

Startled, everyone glanced between the bell and Iroh, who looked to be just as surprised as they were, while Teiji just clapped his hands and babbled happily at the bell-ringing. Iroh gave Teiji a quick but clearly wondering glance, before shrugging his shoulders and turning to everyone with a wide smile.  “I believe that’s a record time for netting a catch; good luck for us indeed!”

 

_Good luck for everyone but me_ , Zuko thought while glaring at the bell and suppressing a groan of irritation.  Processing a net full of fish and converting the crane back into a catapult always took hours, and most of the crew; there went his opportunity for sparring today, too!    While Jee waved for the helmsman to blow the ship’s whistle and summon everyone to work, he stalked off to his cabin to change clothes again.

 

By the time he came back on deck in uniform, the catch had been hauled aboard and dumped into a waiting giant crate, and Chu Si was handing out fish knives and cutting boards to the crew while Sheng was busy setting up the portable smoking racks.  “The largest and finest catch I have ever seen in my many years at sea!” Chu Si said happily.  “Teiji is bringing us good luck, I tell you!”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Taozu said with a smile as he took a knife and cutting board, found a seat and began cleaning and gutting his first fish.

 

“We should lower the net again,” Cheung suggested with a grin as he sat down beside Taozu and grabbed a fish too.  “Maybe next time we’ll haul the Avatar up in it!” Nearly everyone within hearing either chuckled or laughed out loud at the joke.   Zuko didn’t laugh, but a grin came to his lips at the thought of seeing that bald-headed boy swinging in the net along with a few dozen flopping fish, and probably pouting up at the bell ringing over his head.

 

After seeing that Jee was supervising the crane’s re-conversion into a catapult and Chu Si and Sheng had the fish-cleaning operation well in hand (and that, other than a few very brief hesitations, everyone was treating Sheng just as they always had), Zuko took Teiji back to his cabin.  He was still annoyed about the lost sparring session, but he had to admit at lunchtime that it was a delight to have truly fresh koi-salmon sashimi again; fish that had been swimming less than an hour ago, straight from the ocean into the cook’s expert hands!  And at lunchtime instead of having to wait for dinner, thanks to netting the catch so early; after making sure the fish-cleaning was going smoothly, Chu Si had taken the best fish from the catch straight to the kitchen to prepare for his and Teiji’s lunch.

 

Lunch was served in the cabin that Zuko had always eaten his meals in, before Teiji.  He complimented Chu Si on the excellent sashimi, and the cook positively beamed with joy before returning to the fish-cleaning crew.  Once they were alone, Zuko almost whispered to Iroh, “Uncle, did you… notice anything today?  Near Teiji, or by the crane and net?”

 

“If by ‘anything’, you’re asking if I saw any friendly spirits aboard today, then I must say that I did not,” Iroh said with a thoughtful look.  “Nor have I ever heard of kirin, in flesh or as spirits, dancing over the waves to board ships at sea.”  He finally shrugged.  “It could be mere coincidence, nephew; stranger things have happened.”  He added with a grin, “For instance, there was that time I found myself, by utter coincidence, trapped by a sudden rainstorm in an inn run by two lovely and unmarried twin sisters, and they--”

 

“ _Uncle_!  Not in front of the baby!” Zuko yelped as he hastily covered Teiji’s ears.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The next morning, many miles away from the _Wani_ :

 

Katara paused while breaking camp and packing up their belongings to look up at Aang, perched atop Appa’s head as the sky bison yawned.  Last night Aang had woken up from another nightmare; he seemed to be having them a lot lately, but he still wouldn’t talk to her about them.  And in the daytime, he acted like everything was fine, cheerful as can be… just like he was now, saying, “Look at those clear skies, buddy! Should be some smooth flying.”

  
Katara turned back to the food bag she’d been about to pack up, then looked inside it and shook her head. Sokka must have had another midnight snack, or maybe Aang had after his nightmare… She announced as she walked up Appa’s tail to the saddle, “Well, we’d better smoothly fly ourselves to a market, because we're out of food.”

 

At her words, Sokka stopped tying down their gear in the back of the saddle and turned to them in alarm. “Guys, wait, this was in my dream, we shouldn't go to the market!”

 

Katara asked curiously, “What happened in your dream?”

 

Sokka’s eyes were practically bulging in horror, every muscle tensed for fight-or-flight.  Katara half-expected him to say that the market would be attacked by some terrible monster like the Wendigo, or maybe burned to ashes in a Fire Nation attack, but instead he said in a hollow and haunted voice, “ _Food eats people_!”

 

…Right.  Katara wondered what it would be like to have a brother who was actually completely sane.

 

Then Sokka added, “Also, Momo could talk.” He turned to where Momo was perched on the saddle rim and said accusingly, “You said some very unkind things.”  Momo’s giant ears sagged at his words, but Katara just shook her head and went back to getting ready to travel.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Back aboard the _Wani_ :

 

“ ** _Ming-Hoa_**!” Zuko shouted as he burst out of his cabin, severely startling Lieutenant Jee who’d been approaching and was just ten feet away from the door.  He grabbed the lieutenant and shouted, “Get the doctor, _now_!  Uncle’s wounded, unconscious!”

 

Jee didn’t ask questions, just turned and ran for sickbay, while Zuko dashed back inside his cabin.  Teiji was right where he’d left him, plunked hastily into his crib, and starting to really wail up a storm, but right then Zuko couldn’t spare any attention for him; it was all focused on Uncle Iroh, lying so still on the floor of his cabin with blood oozing through the strands of gray hair on his head. His mind kept replaying what had just happened:

 

Zuko had just finished getting Teiji dressed for the day, and was tickling him to make him giggle and laugh while they waited for Uncle Iroh to come in with the tea tray.  It had become a habit for their little family, to have an affectionate moment together with tea (and water for Teiji, who was getting quite skilled at sipping without spilling) before they went down to the mess hall for breakfast with the crew.

 

Just then the door had opened and his uncle had come in, with the tea tray and a smile.  “Good morning, nephew and grandson!  How did yo _uuuu_?!” as his foot had come down on a kokeshi doll that Zuko had missed in last night’s toy roundup before bed, that had rolled to a spot near the doorway.  The kokeshi figure had rolled underfoot, and the tea tray had gone up into the air as Iroh, flailing for balance, had fallen backwards—and slammed his head into the edge of the door still closing behind him.

 

The door had slammed shut with the force of the blow, while Uncle Iroh crumpled to the deck with a teapot and cups crashing all around him.  Zuko had set Teiji down and scrambled to his uncle’s side, shouting his name and shaking his shoulder, but gotten no response.  And even now that he’d gotten someone to go get the ship’s doctor, he still got no response, but as he knelt beside his uncle’s prone figure again he said in pleading tones, “Jee’s gone to get Ming-Hoa, Uncle; _please_ be all right…”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After leaving the vendor’s stand without any melons, Sokka moaned, “Out of food and out of money, now what are we supposed to do?”

 

Katara said with some annoyance, “You could get a job, smart guy.”  
  
Just then they noticed an old couple arguing on the docks in front of them.  The louder of the two, and elderly woman, was nearly shouting, “We shouldn't go out there! Please, the fish can wait. There's going to be a terrible storm.”

 

But a bearded old man wearing a straw hat just shouted right back at her, “Ahh, you're crazy! It's a nice day. No clouds, no wind, no nothing, so quit your naggin', woman!”  
  
Aang said hesitantly to Katara and Sokka, “Maybe we should find some shelter?”

 

Sokka looked at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Shelter from what?”  
  
The old man and woman continued their argument, the woman insisting, “My joints say there's going to be a storm! A bad one.”

 

Her husband scoffed, “Well, it's your joints against my brain.”

 

His wife snapped right back at him, “Then I hope your brain can find someone else to haul that fish, cause I ain't coming!”

  
The old fisherman glared at her. “Then I'll find a new fish hauler and pay him double what you get! How do you like that?”

 

Almost instantly, Sokka ran up to the pair and said eagerly, “I'll go!”

 

The old man pointed at him and declared, “You're hired!”  Then he grinned smugly back at his wife, who only glowered more fiercely at him in return.

 

Sokka turned back to his friends, who were blinking at him in surprise, and said with a shrug, “What? You said 'get a job' and he's paying double.”

 

“Double?” the old man barked immediately. “Who told ya that nonsense?”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The good news was, Iroh regained consciousness even as Ming-Hoa started examining him.  After the examination and carefully treating the scalp wound (which took two stitches), the doctor said he was reasonably sure Iroh had avoided a concussion, but still recommended bedrest and someone checking on him periodically, just in case. 

 

The bad news was, General Iroh’s injury had distracted Lieutenant Jee from telling the prince and captain of the ship some important news; that what looked to be a bad storm was on the way.  On deck after seeing Iroh back to his cabin with a volunteer watcher and Teiji to the nursery, Zuko stared at the thick wall of dark clouds lining the horizon with shock.  “I don’t believe this… I looked out the porthole just before the accident, barely an hour ago, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky!”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jee said with a grim expression.  “I didn’t want to believe it either; it’s the wrong season for storms to spring up this quickly or this bad.  But Anzu said his joints have been aching since dawn, and the air… there’s a whiff of ozone to it; have you noticed?”

 

Zuko sniffed, and scowled.  “I do now.”  Growing up with imperial firebenders, he knew all too well that where there was ozone, there was lightning or the potential for lightning.

 

“When I was first coming to get you, I was going to recommend that we turn and go south, try to outrun it to a safe harbor.  But now…” Jee shook his head.  “It’s too close, coming on too fast; there’s no way we can outrun it.  We can still try to cut east-southeast across the storm front, but we’ll be getting it broadside for hours before we can make port in a harbor that’s deep enough to take our keel.”

 

Zuko stared grimly at the storm clouds ahead of them.  “Or, since we can’t avoid it… we could just keep going north, and rhino right through the worst of it to the other side.  Maybe get it over with more quickly…” He glanced at Jee.  “What’s your experience with storms like this?  Is the stormfront wider than it is deep?”

 

Jee frowned hard. “I want to say yes, sir, but this out-of-season storm is anyone’s guess.  Either way, we’re going to take a beating.”

 

Zuko took a deep breath, then announced his decision: “Batten down the hatches, stow all the loose gear, and keep to a northerly course.  The Avatar has been heading steadily north, anyway.”

 

“Yes, sir,” as Jee nodded grim acceptance of his orders.  Then his expression lightened a bit as he offered, “If we’re lucky, by going straight in we’ll be able to find the eye of the storm. If we can find and stay in the eye, we’ll be fine while waiting for the storm to blow itself out.”

 

“If we’re lucky,” Zuko echoed glumly.  He didn’t quite have the heart to tell Jee that he was almost never that lucky.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Four hours later, the ship was right smack in the middle of a torrential downpour, the rain coming down so hard that the lookouts could hardly see thirty feet in front of them.  But though they’d charged right into the teeth of the storm, it still wasn’t snapping at them with lightning, and the waves were high but not reaching the deck yet; general consensus was that Agni favored the prince’s boldness in facing the storm head-on.  (As for the few who suggested that Agni was smiting them with the storm, for bringing a witch-child aboard, they shut up fast when their crewmates suggested they could be strapped to the rails outside.)

 

In the nursery, Teiji refused to settle down for his nap; he just would not be quieted or comforted by anything or anyone, except when Zuko came in to check on him.  When the baby latched onto his leg and refused to let go, he sighed and told Botan, “I’ll just take him back to our cabin; my paperwork’s finally caught up, anyway.  Dismissed, and tell Taozu and the others not to bother with their watches today.”

 

So Teiji went with Zuko back to their cabin, while Iroh determinedly left his to go down to the mess hall, despite Seaman Yong’s worried insistence that he should stay in bed.  “I have had enough bed rest and enough of you youngsters hovering over me, looking as though you think I could die at any second,” he said irritably.  “If you must watch me, then watch me drink tea down in the mess hall!  I want good tea, good conversation and the good company of people who’ve known me long enough know I’m too tough to die of a mere bump to the head!”

 

He found that company in Lieutenant Jee and a few other people, who’d been about to make their way down to the beast-hold with a sack of… something that they were quite happy to set aside, in favor of drinking tea with the general in the mess hall instead.  Iroh almost asked for a shot of whatever was in that sack, but knew that worrywart Yong would probably feel obliged to tell the doctor if he was drinking illegal hooch right after a head injury, so instead he sighed and asked Chu Si to brew them some ginseng tea.

 

With the exception of Yong, everyone at the table was old enough to be a grandfather, and some of them actually were.  After the tea was brewed and served, the conversation inevitably turned to their children and grandchildren back home, and to the general’s adopted grandchild.  After taking a long drink of tea that just might have been sweetened with whatever was in that sack, Joben had enough liquid courage in him to say out loud to Iroh, “He may be a real mismatch, but that baby’s done wonders for the prince, he has! Made him downright human!” 

 

Iroh looked down into his teacup and mused, “I think… I think that instead of a mismatch, this Earth Kingdom peasant child and Fire Nation prince are like yin and yang; opposites who are perfectly matched for each other.  Teiji needs a father who will love and protect him, and prove by example that having mismatched features is nothing to be ashamed of.  While Zuko needs someone to love and protect—someone who _needs_ him, and in that needing give him the self-worth he has been lacking.  And someone who will also prove, by his own innocent example, that having mismatched features is nothing to be ashamed of.  Because even if we capture the Avatar and return to the Fire Nation, that scar his father gave him will always be there…”

 

Jee nodded agreement, raised his teacup to his lips for another drink

 

\--and dropped it, to clatter on the deck as he gaped at the former general.  “Did you say… _his father_ gave him that scar?  F-Fire Lord Ozai?! I’d heard it was from a training accident…”

 

Iroh looked up to meet Jee’s astonished gaze, and there was something terrible in those amber depths.  “It was no accident.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Ten minutes later, a grim-faced Jee was walking through the crew quarters, knocking on doors, rousing the crew and telling them firmly, “Everyone not on duty is meeting in the mess hall in fifteen minutes.  It’s story time.”

 

Story time?! Everyone not too busy still holding onto their stomachs from the ship’s constant heaving in the waves, looked at Jee like he’d gone bonkers.  But he was the lieutenant, so they got out of their bunks or put away their card games and converged on the mess hall as ordered.  They found General Iroh there waiting for them, along with a few crewmembers clutching cold cups of tea while staring uneasily either at the general or at each other.

 

When most of the crew was present, Jee took a quick head count and nodded.  “That’s everyone not on duty, sir.”

 

The general nodded, then pitched his voice to carry throughout the mess hall.  “The story I am about to tell you is difficult for me to speak of… and your captain Prince Zuko would likely rather I didn’t speak of it at all.  But from what Lieutenant Jee said earlier, I believe it is time you all knew the truth about my nephew, and why he is out here so far from home, chasing the Avatar.”

 

He began with a story of a war meeting, one that had taken place nearly three years ago.  A war meeting that a much younger Prince Zuko had been determined to attend, to begin learning how to rule the country.  A war meeting that he’d later disrupted, with his vehement protest against what one general proposed to use the 41st Division for: ‘fresh meat’ for baiting a trap for an Earth Kingdom Army battalion.

 

The normally quiet and reserved Shoda cursed _blasphemously_ , and when startled glances came his way, murmured through almost bloodless lips, “I had a cousin in the 41st; they lost _over half the division_ in that attack! We all cursed Army Intelligence, the usual oxymoron; figured somebody had dropped the torch on figuring the enemy’s strength and numbers. But the generals… they _knew_ , and they still…”

 

“They knew,” Iroh said grimly, eyes focused on nothing, or on hard memory.  “Prince Zuko was right in his opinion.  But it was not his place to speak out, and there were… dire consequences.” A pause and long breath, as if gathering his strength to continue; then he nearly ground out, “After Zuko's outburst in the meeting, the Fire Lord became very angry with him. He said that Prince Zuko's challenge of the general was an act of complete disrespect, and there was only one way to resolve this…”

 

“An Agni Kai,” Jee supplied for him, his face pale as if all the blood had been drained away. “A _thirteen-year-old kid_ , in a fire duel.”

 

“That's right,” Iroh nodded. “Zuko looked upon the old general he had insulted, and declared that he was not afraid. But Zuko misunderstood. In the Agni Kai arena, when he turned to face his opponent, he was surprised to see it was not the general. Zuko had spoken out against a general's plan, but by doing so in the Fire Lord's war room, it was the Fire Lord whom he had disrespected. Zuko would have to duel his own father.”

 

As Iroh described the Agni Kai to them, the crew were all riveted to their seats with dismay, horror and growing sympathy for what a young prince barely out of boyhood had been put through, just for speaking up for his countrymen.  More than one man put a trembling hand to his own face, trying to imagine a hand wreathed in imperial fire being laid there deliberately, the flesh searing…

 

Cheung abruptly bent double in his seat and vomited, not quite missing the trousers of Taozu sitting next to him.  Taozu futilely flinched away from the spattering, but was too busy keeping his own jaws clamped shut to protest.  “S-sorry,” Cheung gasped after he stopped heaving, wiping his flecked lips, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “Shit, I’ll clean it up, sorry…”

 

Cheung went scrambling for rags, and after a long pause in which Iroh struggled to keep his own composure, the former general continued, “After the duel, the Fire Lord said that by refusing to fight, Zuko had shown shameful weakness. As punishment he was banished, and sent to capture the Avatar. Only then could he return with his honor.”

 

If there had been only a few men present to hear Iroh’s tale, it might have ended there, with respectful silence.  But in a room crowded with people, a mass of emotions churning in each one and amplified by the presence of so many more feeling the same, no silence could last for long…

 

“How the fuck is it ‘shameful weakness’ to not fight _your own fuckin’ father_?!” Tadao burst out.  At the stares turned his way, he flushed but kept on with a mix of mortal embarrassment and determination, “I used to spar with my dad all the time, but there’s a helluva difference between a training session and an _Agni Kai!_   I could probably take him these days, but if someone tricked me into facing my father in the arena, I’d surrender to him in a heart beat—because _that’s_ showing respect for your old man!”

 

Once the words were said, there was no taking them back, and as they sunk into other ears they sprouted more words of dissent.  “Kid could have been told to just sit down and shut up, and stay out of the adults’ business,” Joben muttered. “Would have been humiliating enough just to do that, ‘stead of calling for an Agni Kai.”

 

“Last I heard, fighting against the Fire Lord was considered _treason_ ,” Tetsuko sniped. “Wouldn’t that include facing him in the Agni Kai arena? Talk about a no-win situation!”

 

“The prince was _set up_ ,” Goro snarled, his teeth bared in anger and outrage. “Set up to fall hard…”

 

“ ** _Enough_.**   _I cannot hear these words_ ,” General Iroh growled, throwing a meaty palm into the air as warning.  Everybody shut up fast, many of them trembling as they realized anew just who they’d been speaking out against; the _Fire Lord_ who was also the _brother_ of the man sitting in front of them. After a few beats of suddenly nervous silence, he continued, “Now you know the story of how my nephew got his scar, and ultimately why we are out here in the middle of a storm.”

 

“That’s why he’s been so obsessed all this time,” Jee said, sounding a little numb with the realization. “Capturing the Avatar is the only chance he has of things returning to normal.”

 

“Things will never return to normal,” General Iroh corrected him almost wearily. “But the important thing is, the Avatar gives Prince Zuko hope… hope of going home again.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

With that, Iroh declared that the tale was over, and sent everyone back to their bunks and their card games.  Everyone except Jee filed out, many of them with backward glances at him; glances filled with a variety of emotions. Unease, bewilderment… even censure. 

 

Iroh sincerely hoped that the censure-filled gazes meant that some crewmen were unhappy with him for not allowing them to vent their displeasure at the monstrous thing Fire Lord Ozai had done to his own son.  If only he could have told them all what he really felt, and what his true intentions were… but he dared not do so, not until he was **_sure_** that there were no more spies for Ozai left aboard the ship.

 

Even telling the crew the truth behind Zuko’s scar and exile had been risky.  He’d always been ready to give the information before, but as a last resort; playing the sympathy card on whichever crewmembers he felt most needed it in order to ward off an impending mutiny.  But after Iroh had heard from White Lotus members that, despite the hundreds of people who had been in the Agni Kai audience that day, the word spreading from the capital island was that Zuko’s scar was the result of a ‘training accident’, he’d known that telling the truth could very well lead to charges of sedition and treason.

 

If Iroh hadn’t noticed over the last week or so how much the crew was finally warming up to his nephew, he would never have dared to openly tell them all.  But he had, and he’d been secretly gratified to see how many of them had been openly sympathetic to Zuko’s plight.  The more people he could quietly turn against Ozai to support his nephew instead, the easier it would be for Zuko to hold the throne as Fire Lord when the time finally came to overthrow Ozai and end the war.  If Iroh was lucky, now that everyone knew the truth about Zuko’s scar, even Ozai’s last remaining spy aboard would be horrified enough to turn against the current Fire Lord and support the eventual coup! 

 

And if he was not that lucky, then perhaps by carefully observing people’s reactions to Zuko from now on, Iroh would be able to identify which crewmember was a spy for his brother and… remove him, before the spy could report to Ozai about Sheng and about Zuko’s decision to keep an earthbender’s secret, in some way that couldn’t be traced back to Iroh himself. Iroh was not looking forward to it; he had already accumulated far too high of a body count in his four decades of waging war against the Earth Kingdom, and he had no desire to pile more deaths on his already heavy conscience.  But no matter the cost, Ozai had to be overthrown, in order to end the war and restore balance to the world.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The storm had gotten worse in the last half-hour or so; the ship’s rocking was even more violent as the _Wani_ fought its way northward through increasingly higher waves. In his cabin, Zuko had sung himself hoarse—well, hoarser than usual—singing all the nursery songs and lullabies he’d learned in the last two weeks, while rubbing Teiji’s back to soothe him.  But all his efforts paid off when finally, hours after his scheduled nap, Teiji finally yawned and settled down to a peaceful slumber.  Zuko smiled down at his son, then began carefully tucking him into their shared bed.

 

**_KRA-KOOOM!_ **

 

Teiji was instantly awake again and screaming, but Zuko couldn’t spare the time to comfort him.  The ship had been hit by lightning!  He scooped Teiji up from the bed and rushed over to deposit him in the crib instead, saying urgently, “Teiji, I’m sorry, but I have to go find out how bad the damage is!  I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise!”  As he turned away, Teiji’s frightened and betrayed wails pierced his eardrums and stabbed into his brain, but he just hunched his shoulders against them as he ran out the door.

 

He emerged onto the main deck to see Uncle Iroh and Lieutenant Jee already there, fighting to keep their balance on the surging deck and with water coming over the rails.  The storm _roared_ all around them, a mighty god-beast expressing its displeasure with the puny humans who dared to venture into its domain.  Fighting his way across the rain-slicked and heaving deck, he shouted, “Where were we hit?!”

 

“I don’t know!” Lieutenant Jee screamed back to be heard over the storm. 

 

Everyone looked around wildly, until Zuko’s sharp ears heard a terrified cry coming from above them; he looked upwards just as his uncle pointed at the bridge and shouted, “Look!”  The lightning had struck and wrecked the bridge, and now their helmsman was up there dangling from a railing, hanging on for his very life!

 

Zuko scrambled for the ladder up to the bridge, Jee right behind him.  The driving winds threatened to rip his phoenix-plume right off his head and the torrential rain was making even the grooved rungs of the ladder slick, but he still climbed at top speed, desperate to reach the crewman in time. 

 

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light, coming from behind him—more lightning!  But all he heard was a heavy snapping sound, no explosion of impact; it must have missed the ship this time, thank Agni. Zuko kept climbing, his eyes locked on the helmsman, now close enough to see which one it was; Jiro ( _son of Hayao and Aki on Ember Island, and why the ash am I thinking of his personnel record at a time like this?! **Faster** , Zu-zu you idiot, he’s hanging on by only one hand_!)

 

He climbed up to just twelve feet below the bridge—just as Jiro lost his grip!  Zuko desperately gripped the ladder with one hand and stretched out to his falling crewman with the other—and got Jiro’s flailing hand by the wrist! 

 

The sudden weight hanging off his arm almost ripped _both_ his arms out of their sockets, but he grimly hung onto both Jiro and the ladder, until Lieutenant Jee was right below him and able to take Jiro from him.  Jee smiled up at him, a smile filled with gratitude and—admiration?  Was Jee actually _proud_ of him for—no, he was reading too much into it, anyone would have done the same thing if they’d gotten to the ladder first.  But still, Zuko couldn’t help smiling back.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Down on the main deck, Iroh’s main thought for the last few seconds had been a semi-stunned, _It worked. That was incredible… It worked_!

 

He’d been practicing that lightning move for _years_ , nearly two decades, ever since getting the idea from studying waterbenders’ techniques.  He’d created the technique with a defense against other imperial firebenders in mind, one in particular; he’d taken note of both Ozai’s volatile temper and his ruthless ambition when his little brother was still a teenager.  But no matter how sure he had been of the _theory_ behind the technique of redirecting lightning, he’d never had the opportunity to _use_ the technique, until now.

 

Finally he shook himself back to awareness of current events, and turned to see Zuko and Lieutenant Jee coming back down the ladder with the helmsman, all safe and sound.  Zuko’s feet were last to touch the deck, but as soon as he did he gripped Jiro by the shoulder and asked urgently, “Jiro, before the strike, did you see the storm easing up in _any_ direction?  Did you see which way to the eye?”

 

Jiro looked like he was in the first stages of shock, but he rallied and answered, “I think so, sir!  Just before the strike, I noticed the storm clouds were lighter in one direction; east by northeast!” as he pointed with a shaking hand.

 

Iroh looked in that direction as well, and saw that Jiro was right; the sky was lighter in that direction, an indicator of either the eye or the end of the storm.  Zuko ordered Jee, “Steer us straight to the eye, and keep us there!  I’ve got to get back to Teiji; he’s alone and scared!” just before he rushed for the nearest hatch.

 

Iroh wanted to immediately join Zuko in comforting Teiji, who was no doubt extremely upset that his father had left him alone when he was scared.  But he decided it would be best if he stayed on deck and ready to bend more lightning away from the ship, until they reached the eye of the storm and relative safety.   So he stayed behind when Zuko rushed inside, and so was present when Cheung, also on the heaving deck, pointed to the northwest and shouted, “The Avatar!”

 

Everyone still on deck turned and looked, and sure enough, that was the Avatar’s sky bison flying low over the waves, apparently struggling to stay aloft. Iroh was silently appalled; what was that foolish child doing out in this weather? 

 

Jee muttered something that Iroh didn’t quite catch, but it sounded very salty and _extremely_ unprofessional.  Then he said much louder, “We ignore him for now. The prince ordered us to steer towards the eye and get this ship to safety!”

 

“But, sir!” Akio protested.  “The prince needs to--”

 

“ _I know_ , curse it!” Jee barked back.  “But we’re pitching too much to aim a shot from the catapult even if we dared raise it right now; with no long-range weapons, we can’t do anything unless that bald-headed brat comes flying right over us!  Now open the panel for the auxiliary bridge controls, so we can _steer_ this tub!”

 

Akio ran to obey, and within two minutes they were turning east by northeast, steering for the eye of the storm.   

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko burst into his cabin, already shedding pieces of armor like autumn leaves.  “I’m back, Teiji, I’m so sorry!” as he hurriedly finished stripping off his upper body armor and sopping-wet undertunic, before scooping his wailing son up out of the crib and cradling him close. Teiji beat on him with his tiny fists, probably out of anger for having left him alone for so long, but only for a few moments before grabbing him tightly, sobbing into his chest.

 

Zuko held him close, murmuring his apologies over and over, and hoping that it wouldn’t take long for Teiji to forgive him for abandoning him, however briefly.  It was _hard_ , being both a new father and the ship’s captain; “I’m so sorry, Teiji, but I’m responsible for the safety of the crew, too!  Jiro would have died if someone hadn’t reached him in time!  I _had_ to go out there, I’m sorry.  But I’m here now; sshh, sshh, little soldier boy…”

 

Teiji’s sobs gradually quieted and he settled down, enough for Zuko to switch to a one-armed hold on the baby so he could awkwardly finish stripping out of his wet armor and clothing with his free hand.  Once he was completely undressed, rather than getting into fresh clothing right away, he just climbed under the covers with Teiji and cuddled him to his chest.  The ship’s violent heaving gradually settled to the much more sedate usual rocking; they must have reached the eye of the storm. Pushing the less immediate concerns—the damage done to the bridge, the money it would take to repair it and where they could dock for repairs—to the back of his mind, Zuko gradually relaxed as he felt the motion rock his son to sleep.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

It took less than half an hour but felt like much, much longer than that, before the crew on deck felt the winds and driving rain lessening as they reached the eye of the storm.  Once they were past the edge and fully in the eye, the rain reduced to a mere light drizzle

 

Iroh was sincerely glad that the worst was over; they’d had no more lightning strikes, but he was soaked to the skin and would have been shivering from the chill if he hadn’t been using his breath of fire to stay warm.  Now that they were out of danger from lightning strikes, he turned to go back to his cabin, check on Teiji and get into dry clothes.  But just before he reached the hatch, everyone heard a sharp rumbling sound like an underwater explosion, coming just forward of the bow.  Alarmed, Iroh turned back around, just in time to see a massive sphere—a bubble of pure energy—erupting from the ocean depths, and bursting just after clearing the surface to reveal the Avatar and his companions inside.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The Avatar State receded, leaving Aang shaken as usual, but this time he had enough presence of mind to keep a good grip on Appa’s reins as the sky bison soared almost straight up into the suddenly clear sky. 

 

He looked back over his shoulder, to see if Katara, Sokka and the fisherman were all still in the saddle—and saw a Fire Nation ship!  Was it Prince Zuko’s ship?  He couldn’t tell, those ships all looked alike to him, and there was no Prince Zuko in sight.  There were a few people out on deck, though; one of them was pointing at him, and shouting something that he couldn’t make out as Appa carried them all up and away…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Lieutenant Jee shouted at the retreating airbender, “You got lucky today, Avatar, but we _will_ capture you!   We’ll bring you down and put you in chains, so our prince can go home with his son— _and someday take the throne_!”

 

The few other crewmen still on deck cheered and roared their agreement, while Iroh blinked at them in astonishment.  After over two years of thoroughly disliking the boy they’d all called the Royal Pain, he hadn’t expected them to rally behind Zuko quite so quickly and thoroughly!  Considering the words Jee had been shouting just now, he didn’t know if he’d just made things better for both Zuko and the world as a whole—or much, much worse…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Back in the Fire Nation Capital:

 

Fire Lord Ozai sat at his desk, signing the few items of paperwork that were too important to be delegated to a minister in the High Council.  Dutifully attending him, the secretary judged that Ozai seemed to be in a good mood today; he hadn’t set any of the scrolls on fire.

 

After applying his royal seal to the last scroll and setting it on the outgoing pile, Ozai took a blank parchment from the stack that was always handy and began writing on it.  The secretary was instantly nervous, though he tried not to show it.  It was never a good sign, when Ozai wrote his own documents; people tended to disappear afterwards, never to be seen or heard from again.

 

He waited until the first few sentences had been written down, and then picked up the pot of coffee that was imported to the capital every day for the Fire Lord’s personal pleasure, and proffered it with a respectful, “More coffee, my lord?”  Ozai waved absent agreement as he continued writing, so the secretary was able to approach the desk and glimpse the document while refreshing his drink.

 

It was a military article of promotion.  Fire Lord Ozai stated that Commodore Zhao, having proved his worth in commanding the naval blockade ( _How’d he do that, given the recent debacle on Crescent Island?_ the secretary wondered but knew better than to say aloud), was now promoted to Admiral…

 

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Azula lied. She spied on her uncle just long enough to find out what he’d be serving for tea that afternoon, and lied about the rest. She lied partly because she was secretly jealous that Iroh had invited Zuko to the tea party but not her, even though she’d treated her uncle with scorn instead of the respect and affection Zuko had shown before that day, and partly because cruelty had already become a habit with her by that age. That lie is my explanation for why pre-Agni Kai Zuko still seemed determined to be closer to his father than to his uncle, even though Iroh clearly had more time and affection for him.


	8. Eavesdropped

Yesterday the Fire Nation ship _Wani_ had been battered by a brutal out-of-season storm, but today the storm had passed; the skies were blue and the seas were calm, and in the captain’s cabin, a little boy was being shamelessly spoiled. Or at least, that’s what Zuko decided what was happening, watching with a wry smile as little Teiji squealed and giggled while shaking a meticulously crafted, state-of-the-art accounting abacus like it was his personal toy rattle.

After the storm had died down last night, Zuko had received the engineers and quartermaster’s reports on the ship’s storm damage, and what they could not repair themselves with supplies on hand. He’d pulled the abacus out of his sea chest to help him refigure the ship’s budget and decide what repairs they could afford to get fixed at Pohuai, the closest port with an adequate shipyard, and what would have to be put off until the next quarter.

Teiji had been absolutely entranced by the abacus and the way Zuko had flicked the beads back and forth during his calculations, staying close by the desk and frequently whining while making grabby gestures. But Zuko had stood firm last night, telling his son sternly that the abacus was a _tool_ , not a _toy_ , and kept it out of his reach.

But that was last night; this morning, after wrestling Teiji into his clothes, Zuko found himself letting his son play with the abacus after all. Mostly because he was proud of Teiji for having learned yet another new word, ‘abacus’! Well, actually he was calling it ‘abakah’, but close enough; such efforts deserved a little reward, Zuko told himself as he finished getting dressed and started binding up his phoenix plume, while Teiji batted beads back and forth and spun them on their spindles.

His uncle knocked on the cabin door and entered with his usual tea tray, though a little more slowly and cautiously than he had yesterday. "How are you feeling, Uncle?" Zuko asked with concern, after the fall and head injury Uncle Iroh had suffered yesterday morning.

"Oh, just a bit of a headache left; I’ll be fine," Iroh said with a dismissive shrug. He smiled at the sight of Teiji with the abacus, and then looked inquiringly at the papers and slate on Zuko’s desk. "How does the budget look?"

"Not as bad as I thought it would be, thanks to that massive catch we netted two days ago. Chu Si said we won’t need to buy any fish at all for another two months, and the catch included a few dwarf swordfish, considered rare delicacies, that he can barter for spices and vegetables in port," as Zuko finished binding up his hair and walked over to the table to point out budget items to his uncle. "We’ll still need to buy rice and other essentials, but by reducing the food budget for the quarter, we can afford to replace the lost telescope and repair the worst of the damage to the bridge without touching the payroll money."

"That is a great relief," Iroh said sincerely. "Delaying the crew’s regular pay should never be done, except as a very last resort." He looked over the repairs lists and the budget again and nodded in approval. "Good decisions on what repairs can wait until next quarter; those are mostly cosmetic concerns… Excellent budgeting, nephew!"

Zuko smiled proudly. "Thank you, uncle! I--" He abruptly cut off and flinched as they both heard a _crack_ evolve into a _crash_ , followed by many little rattling noises.

Iroh looked over Zuko’s shoulder and sighed. "Oh, Teiji…"

Without turning around or even opening his eyes, Zuko said resignedly, "He just broke the abacus, didn’t he?"

"Quite thoroughly, by bashing it against the sea chest," Iroh reported, sounding wry. "It’s surprising how strong toddlers can be at times… Well, we’d best pick all the beads up before he chokes on one of them," as he nudged past Zuko, while Teiji’s whimpers began to fill the air.

Zuko finally opened his eyes and turned around to see Teiji sitting there with the broken remains of the abacus in his hands, and his lower lip quivering as he stared tearfully up at his father; he’d done wrong, and he knew it. "You did a bad thing, Teiji," Zuko said sternly as he gently took the remains from Teiji’s hands, and then picked him up and set him in the crib. "No more abacuses for you! And you stay in there until we have all the beads picked up."

Teiji wailed and sobbed his distress, but Zuko just hunched his shoulders and ignored him while getting down on hands and knees with his uncle and chasing scattered abacus beads all over the cabin floor. When they were almost done, he leaned in close to his uncle and hesitantly murmured, "Should I punish him further?"

"You could leave him in there while we take tea together, but no more than that," Iroh murmured back. "Excessive punishment at such a tender age will only teach him to fear you, instead of have more respect for others’ belongings. I shall buy you a new and better abacus when we reach port, nephew. I seem to recall that Pohuai has excellent craftsmen…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

As they drew near the docks and buildings of Pohuai City, the colony that supported and was protected by Pohuai Stronghold, Zuko found himself actually _eager_ to leave the ship and venture out amongst strangers for the first time in well over two years. He knew he’d be stared at for his shocking ugliness again, just as always, but this time he had a purpose in mind that far outweighed the dread—and this time, his purpose wasn’t to hunt the Avatar. The Fire Sages stayed in the Home Islands except for annual tours of the colonies, but Pohuai was old and populous enough to have its own Fire Cleric, and the cleric would be able to begin the process of Teiji’s official adoption!

Then his gaze wandered over the water to the towers of Pohuai Stronghold, visible over the trees of the forest surrounding the harbor. He frowned in thought at he pondered how to get inside the stronghold, wearing the all-black clothes and theater mask that he wore for sneaking about, whether to gather information on Avatar sightings or just to get off the ship for a while without anyone knowing. Pohuai Stronghold was the communications hub for this region, so the fort’s inner offices could have a wealth of information useful to his mission, but getting to those offices would be no easy task.

He’d managed to infiltrate the fort during his visit to Pohuai last year, but he’d come within a hair’s breadth of getting caught. He’d only escaped because the soldier who’d glimpsed him had been clearly tipsy from drinking instead of sober for duty, and hadn’t dared report what he’d seen and draw attention to his condition. He couldn’t count on getting the same luck this time, because Zuko knew too well that he was _just not lucky_ ; he’d have to find a better way in.

But he’d have to find more than a new route into Pohuai Stronghold; he’d have to find a way to sneak out of his room without waking Teiji. His son was now used to sleeping by himself for midday naps, but when nightfall came Teiji insisted that his daddy belonged in bed with him, and cuddled up close even before Zuko put the candles out with his bending. The one time he’d tried to get him to sleep in the crib instead of in their bed, the poor boy had suffered nightmares, just like Zuko did all the time—

All the time, except not all the time anymore. Zuko paused and thought back, counting up the nights… and then his jaw dropped in shock as he realized that he’d had _only one nightmare in the past three weeks_! Only one in all that time, when he used to get them at least one night in four! And the only time had been that one night he’d tried to get Teiji to sleep in the crib instead!

He looked over his shoulder, staring in the direction of the nursery where Teiji was playing until the ship docked. Roll him in cinders, but this was just the _opposite_ of what he’d heard fatherhood was like! One time when he’d been hiding from Azula up in a tree in the royal estate’s orangicot grove, he’d accidentally eavesdropped on two gardeners working nearby, while talking about how one of them was expecting his and his wife’s first child any day now. The older gardener, already a father of three, had told the younger, "Get all the sleep that you can now, because once he’s born, you’ll never get a full night’s sleep again." But now that he had Teiji, Zuko was actually getting _more_ sleep than before!

Grinning, Zuko started to head towards his uncle’s cabin. Uncle Iroh used to be bothered a lot by his nightmares, especially back when he still wore the bandages; his uncle had come in nearly every time back then, waking him up if he hadn’t already screamed himself awake, fussing over him and making him drink calming tea and such. He’d be so happy to know that not only was Zuko good for Teiji, but Zuko himself was benefiting from---

Oh _hells_ no. Zuko skidded to a halt, then turned around with a scowl and went right back to his favored spot on the prow. If he told Uncle Iroh that he was sleeping better now that he had somebody cuddling with him while he slept, then sure as sunset, his uncle would say something like ‘I _told_ you we should have brought your old toy cuddle-rhino with us on the trip! All those months and years of nightmares could have been avoided if you’d just listened to your old uncle’s wisdom! You said you’d outgrown it, but…’

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

We interrupt this narrative for an Author’s Note, before anyone accuses me of completely butchering Prince Zuko’s character by making him a blatant cuddlebug:

Yep, Lil’ Zuko had a stuffed toy komodo-rhino, given to him by his uncle when he was a toddler. And he managed to save it from Azula’s cruel intentions clear to his early adolescence, by hiding it very well after she started burning all his other toys, and hardly ever peeking in on his old friend’s hiding place. But no, bringing his old cuddle-toy with him into exile would **not** have prevented the nightmares he used to suffer on a frequent basis.

The worst of Zuko’s frequent nightmares usually focused on the Agni Kai, and being burned by his father. But sometimes they reflected other moments in his childhood and early adolescence; times when Azula found some new way to hurt him (while their father just looked on with cold disregard), or just times when he was outright declared to be a disappointment and failure in comparison to his sister. Whatever they featured, most of Zuko’s nightmares sprang from his desperate desire to please his father, to somehow make Ozai love him, and the subconscious knowledge that nothing he did would ever really be enough.

So why are the nightmares so infrequent now? Well, Zuko doesn’t realize it yet, but since finding a baby alone in the woods and agreeing to adopt the child, his priorities have shifted. His greatest desire is no longer to please his distant and unapproachable father, but to protect and care for his son, the baby that shows so much affection for him—and so clearly **needs** him, too. Iroh was right on the money in his little speech last chapter about why Teiji is so good for his father.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

They docked without any trouble despite the damage they’d taken from the storm yesterday, and the port authority even greeted them more cordially then he had last year. It was not stated outright, but Iroh gathered that last year, everyone in Pohuai had figured that Prince Zuko had been sent on a fool’s errand… but now that the Avatar had returned, Prince Zuko was no fool but a man with a mission, that had a far better chance of succeeding now than his father and grandfather had ever had.

Immediately after greeting Prince Zuko, the harbormaster passed on the information that there had been no Avatar sightings within the Pohuai territory, even before Zuko could ask about it. "But if he is seen anywhere nearby, we shall immediately send you a message by the swiftest messenger hawk," the official said with a deep bow, as all his associates followed suit. "We most earnestly wish you success in your mission, your highness."

Zuko stood tall as he graciously accepted their well-wishes, while standing a short distance away, Iroh considered that the officials might well be earnest in their desire for the prince to succeed. After the destruction of the Fire Temple on Crescent Island, no doubt most of the Fire Nation was convinced that the Avatar was just as big a threat to their empire as Sozin had always said he would be. But it was also possible that the officials had decided to be more cordial and respectful of Prince Zuko just in case he really did end up being reinstated as the crown prince and heir to the throne. Better for the crown prince to have fond memories of Pohuai’s officials than bad memories, particularly if the colonies’ taxes were raised again, Iroh thought to himself with more than a little cynicism.

The day’s good luck continued, when the harbormaster and shipyard engineers gave them an estimate for repairing the damage that actually cost forty-five less gold pieces than Zuko had estimated. They were also assured that all the parts they needed were in stock, so there would be no long delays in repairs. After seeing to the _Wani’s_ repair needs, Zuko, Iroh, Teiji and two honor guards made a small procession through Pohuai City to the local Fire Temple, perched on a hillside facing the rising sun. Unfortunately, when they reached the Fire Cleric’s residence at the temple, they were greeted with unpleasant news:

"Out of town?! What do you mean, he’s out of town?!" Zuko demanded, scowling at the cleric’s assistant bowing before him. "Since when does a Fire Cleric leave his temple and his duties behind?"

The layman swallowed hard in the face of his royal temper and bowed even deeper while explaining, "Cleric Soyu had applied for and been granted leave by the High Fire Sages six months ago, when his sister told him that she was expecting her first child. He went to Yashu Colony to bless his nephew’s birth, and give Agni’s Blessing to all the other children born there since the traveling Fire Sage’s last visit on circuit. I received a hawk-message just this morning saying that all the children were blessed and healthy, and he was on his way back by merchant vessel; he will return in only three days, your highness!"

" _I don’t have three days_!" Zuko growled, his fists smoldering and his face a distorted mask of frustration. "I have to be offshore again before sunrise tomorrow!"

As per the terms of his banishment, Iroh thought sadly, standing nearby with Teiji as the toddler determinedly gnawed on a chewy sweet-stick. Prince Zuko was not allowed to set foot within the Fire Nation’s formal borders for any reason, until he captured the Avatar. He was allowed to visit every colony and military outpost, but each for only one day every six months, unless the ship was so badly damaged that it needed extensive repairs that would take more than a day. And even when the ship stayed in port for repairs, Zuko was allowed to go ashore only one day and night of the visit; if he tried to stay any longer, any colonial governor or base commander could order his arrest for violating the terms of his banishment.

Ozai had been _thorough_ in arranging his unwanted son’s ruination, Iroh thought bitterly. He had branded Zuko with a disfiguring scar, driven him away from his home and nearly everyone who knew him, spread lies about how he’d gotten the scar, given him a ship that was barely seaworthy and a crew that could charitably be called a ragtag bunch of misfits, and then prevented him from staying anywhere long enough for people to see past the horrifying scar to the lonely and good-hearted boy underneath.

"There is no point in blaming the assistant, nephew," he said as he stepped forward to lay a firm but comforting hand on Zuko’s shoulder. "We shall simply try again at the next colony we come to. Yu Dao is north of here, and certainly large enough to support a temple and Fire Cleric. In the meantime, while we’re in port let’s do some shopping. I’m certain that at least one of the shops here will have a fine set of toy soldiers!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

　

As they left the Fire Temple behind, Zuko was acutely disappointed that he couldn’t start Teiji’s official adoption process that day; disappointed, and very worried as well. He still hadn’t received any messages from his father concerning his decision to adopt a foreign child as his ward, and every day that passed without receiving a black-ribboned scroll from the palace made the knot in his stomach clench just a little bit tighter.

Uncle Iroh was worried as well, which was why he’d suggested a few days ago that they stop in at the first Fire Temple they could find in the colonies, and get the adoption process started without waiting for further word from the palace. Uncle Iroh was confident that he could talk any Fire Sage into agreeing to the idea, so long as they emphasized that Teiji would officially be Zuko’s ward, not his son and certainly not his heir. And once they had the papers in hand, proof of the Fire Sages’ support of the adoption, then his father would have one less reason to object to the idea.

But now they’d have to go clear to Yu Dao to get the process started, and Yu Dao was another six days’ travel by ship. What if the message from his father arrived sometime between now and then—and what would it say? If the Fire Lord refused to let Zuko keep him as a ward, if he ordered the baby be turned over to an orphanage instead, how could Zuko ensure Teiji’s safety from the superstitious people who’d think his eyes made him a witch-child?

Zuko’s train of thought was disrupted by his uncle abruptly handing him an armful of squirming toddler. "Here, nephew; you can have him back, now that we need no longer worry about the Fire Cleric hearing Teiji call you ‘daddy’ and disbelieving your claim of adopting him merely as a ward."

"Dada!" Teiji said cheerfully, as if on cue, popping the sweet-stick out of his mouth long enough to thwack Zuko on the chest with it, leaving a sticky residue behind. Zuko didn’t even sigh over the stain anymore; over the last few weeks he’d grown to accept the fact that parenting was a messy business and he’d never stay clean for a full day again.

Not far from where the Fire Temple lay, Pohuai City had a thriving marketplace. The air was filled with scents of all kinds, ranging from the spicy aroma of flaming fire flakes to the salty tang of fish and other seafood straight off the docks. Vendors called out their wares as people bustled to and fro with their purchases in baskets and sacks or, in the case of small livestock, being tugged behind them on lead ropes.

When they reached the marketplace, Uncle Iroh asked a local where the sellers of toys and child-rearing supplies could be found, but then took off in a different direction. "Uncle? Where are we going?" Zuko asked in confusion.

"Well, **_I_** am going in search of a lotus tile, to replace the one Teiji teethed on," Iroh said cheerfully over his shoulder. "You surely don’t need my help to find a good set of toy soldiers! I’ll find you again soon, either in the toy sellers’ area or back on the ship."

Zuko gave a wry half-smile of resignation; trust his uncle to think of his pai sho game over nearly everything else. But since Iroh hadn’t gestured for either of their two honor guards to accompany him for fetch-and-carry duty, maybe this time he’d come back to the ship with just a pai sho tile, instead of more piles of souvenirs and useless trinkets.

Teru, their honor guard to the fore, looked back at him in silent question. "To the toy sellers," Zuko directed him, loud enough for Tetsuko to hear behind them, and they set off.

Along the way Zuko noticed a few other members of his crew shopping at stalls, the first crewmen on the brief shore leave rotation he’d authorized before setting out for the Fire Temple. He also saw Chu Si at a stall arguing vociferously with one of the merchants, probably bargaining to get the best possible deal on the dwarf swordfish they were trading for other supplies.

It wasn’t the first time Zuko had been on solid land at the same time as his crew on shore leave, but this time was different. Usually when he was on the docks they acted like they didn’t even see him, unless he gave them a direct order; trying to pretend they didn’t know him, probably ashamed to be part of the crew belonging to the disgraced and banished prince. But this time, as soon as they saw him they gave short but respectful bows of greeting, which startled him so much the first time it happened that he almost forgot to respond with the appropriate nod of royal acknowledgment. And a few of them were even not-quite- _smiling_ in his direction again…

It must be because he was holding Teiji, he decided. Everybody loved his son… well, everyone who wasn’t a superstitious fool, anyway!

Just then they passed a peasant woman sitting on a bench while holding and trying to comfort a crying toddler, a boy who looked to be at most a year older than Teiji. The child in her lap sobbed and wailed broken-heartedly while clutching an _akebeko_ hippo-cow in his hands, the bobbing head torn from the body. Zuko winced when he saw the damage and was silently grateful to Goro for having warned him ahead of time that such toys simply weren’t safe for toddlers to play with, and keeping Teiji’s _akabeko_ cow-pig high on a shelf to let the waves do the bobbing for him.

"Sshh, ssshhh, it will be all right, only the thread is broken, I can fix it when we get home," the peasant mother said to her child in a frantic whisper, while her eyes darted everywhere in embarrassment and silent apology to the passersby, most of whom were frowning at her for keeping a crying child out in public view. Didn’t she know that such displays were unseemly? Why hadn’t she taken the little boy home already?

Then Zuko spotted the worn old crutch, lying atop a sack of vegetables next to the bench. His eyes went immediately from the crutch to the woman’s feet… make that, her foot. Only the sandal-shod left foot poked out from beneath her peasant yukata; the other was conspicuously absent.

It wasn’t any concern of his, how peasants lived their miserable lives. Royalty never concerned themselves with such things; the peasants were there to serve _them_ , not the other way around.

So why did Zuko find himself heading straight for the nearest stall selling sweet treats, and tossing the surprised vendor there some copper pieces before grabbing a handful of sweet-sticks and other goodies? Probably because the peasant woman reminded him somewhat of Teiji’s mother, Zuko decided while heading back to the bench, as a wide-eyed Teru and Tetsuko scrambled to keep up with him. Not that they looked anything alike, but they were both peasant women--and besides, he was a _prince_ ; within the limits of his banishment he could do whatever he wanted to do, so who _cared_ why he was doing it!

"Here. This should keep him quiet," he said gruffly while shoving one of the chewy sweet-sticks right in front of the little boy’s face. The child stared at it in open-mouthed astonishment for only a second or two before dropping the broken akabeko sections and grabbing for it with a child’s innocent greed.

The mother was just as astonished, at an utter stranger giving her child candy without so much as a by-your-leave. "What? Why--" as she turned to look Zuko right in the face… and then her expression got stuck somewhere between shocked and dismayed when she saw the phoenix plume and gold emblem on his uniform collar that marked him as royalty, and the hideous scar that marked him as a disgraced failure; the banished prince.

"Oh, just stay there," Zuko muttered with some embarrassment when she started to get up from the bench, possibly with the intent of kowtowing, though how she was going to do that with a toddler in her arms was a mystery to him. "That’s an order!" The woman subsided, still staring at him wide-eyed, and he looked uncomfortably away from her expression to the broken akabeko at their feet. "Teru, see if that can be fixed."

Teru scrambled to pick the broken toy up, and looked the pieces over critically. "The string inside is broken, sir, but someone with small fingers and great skill might be able to replace it without breaking the outer shell. Sir, shall I see if there is a toymaker here at the market with the skills to repair it?"

"Do so," Zuko ordered with a nod, while digging into his belt pouch for a few silver pieces, which he handed over with the additional instructions, "And if you can’t find someone to repair it, then buy a replacement as much like it as possible."

"Sir!" as Teru saluted before nearly sprinting on to the toy sellers’ area with the akabeko in his hands.

The mother was still staring at him in shock, and Zuko still had no idea what to say to her—he’d never spoken to peasants before, except to give them orders—so he spoke to Teiji in his arms instead. "Now that is the reason why your own akabeko stays high on the shelf, Teiji," he told his son quite seriously. "You are too young to play safely with such a fragile toy." Still gnawing on his own sweet-stick, Teiji gave him a thoughtful look as if he was gravely considering the limitations of his toddler years, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the drool dripping off his chin.

About ten seconds of increasingly uncomfortable silence followed his pronouncement, before Tetsuko broke it with a wry smile as she gestured towards the peasant woman while asking, "By your leave, sir?"

"Granted," Zuko said with relief that he hoped wasn’t too obvious.

"Sergeant Tetsuko, of the _Wani_ ," Tetsuko immediately introduced herself to the peasant mother. "I’ve served in the military these past ten years, and served aboard Prince Zuko’s ship for nearly three years now. Were you in service, ma’am?"

"Yes, I was; former Corporal Ling Ma, of the 87th Infantry Division," the peasant mother said with what seemed like as much relief as Zuko was feeling.  No dout she'd had no idea what to say to a banished prince, either.

"87th Infantry," Tetsuko repeated with a thoughtful expression, before pointing to Ling Ma’s feet, or foot. "Let me guess; Ba Sing Se?"

Ling Ma nodded as she said, "Boulder I couldn’t dodge in time. Happened two weeks before the siege ended, when--" Then she abruptly caught herself and shut up, glancing at Zuko with a stricken expression.

 _When my cousin died, and my uncle lost all interest in fighting_ , Zuko silently finished the sentence for her. But instead of saying aloud what she dared not even imply while in his presence, he said solemnly, "This war has cost us all dearly."

…Wow, that sounded like something Uncle Iroh would say, when he wasn’t talking about tea. Even Tetsuko was looking a little impressed! Maybe it wasn’t so hard to talk to peasants after all…

But after saying something so wise and profound, he had absolutely no idea what to say next to follow it up. He’d better just shut up and look regal again, while Tetsuko did the talking.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

In addition to a Fire Temple and a marketplace, Pohuai also had a post office, for packages and for every message that was not so crucial that it needed to be flown to its destination by messenger hawk. Only the nobility had mail delivered right to their doors, but a small crowd of town gossips always flocked around the pier when the postmaster came to pick up the mail from the courier ships, and word always got out when someone had received a letter and needed to go pick it up. The Fire Nation government’s mail system was the fastest and most efficient in all the world; a letter could travel from the northernmost colony or troop encampment to the Fire Nation capital, or vice versa, in only twelve days!

A fact crewman Shoda was well aware of, as he paused momentarily outside the post office before turning sharply away from it. He had no scroll to drop off today. Unlike last year when they’d passed through Pohuai, when Shoda had mailed a long and chatty letter to his Uncle Bogai… that was actually full of coded information for the royal spymaster.

For nearly three years, Shoda had been quietly spying on General Iroh and Prince Zuko, as per orders from the palace. The spymaster had promised a hefty bonus to his pay, which always went straight to his parents on Ember Island instead of to the ship so no one there would get suspicious.

Shoda had understood Fire Lord Ozai’s concerns, relayed by the spymaster, about General Iroh. Ozai’s elder brother had once been the heir to the throne, and undoubtedly resented being passed over in favor of his younger brother in Fire Lord Azulon’s will. But like any good citizen and dutiful soldier, Shoda supported Azulon’s chosen successor, Fire Lord Ozai. Besides, given the way Iroh had just _crumbled_ after the loss of his son, he probably would not have handled the pressures of running an entire nation all that well. But rather than blithely expect Iroh to accept his fate without even a murmur, it was far more sensible to have someone quietly keep an eye on him, and on Prince Zuko as well, and report any possibly seditious behavior.

The spymaster had also taken care to brief Shoda on how Prince Zuko had gotten his scar, despite the official news that it had been a ‘training accident’. A good spy should know the truth before listening for others’ lies, the spymaster had said. Ozai had gravely accepted an Agni Kai challenge from his headstrong son Zuko, only for the boy to change his mind when he realized the Agni Kai would really happen, and then shame himself in front of all the nobility by falling on his knees and begging like a child. After such weak and disgraceful behavior in front of all the court, Ozai had but little choice but to burn and banish his son, hoping that a few years of travel and hardship would toughen him up and make him more fit to hold the throne he would eventually inherit.

Once more, Shoda silently cursed the spymaster, and himself for believing him. After all, hadn’t the spymaster _told him_ at the initial briefing that the most dangerous lies were the half-truths?

The spymaster had said that, like the foolish headstrong teenager he was, Zuko had marched right into a war room meeting in progress and challenged his father to an Agni Kai in front of all the generals, claiming that he was ready for the throne and could rule better than his father even at such a young age. The spymaster had said _nothing_ about the 41st Division, and General Bujing’s plans for them.

But then, when he’d been recruited for the long mission, Shoda hadn’t said anything about having a younger cousin in the 41st Division either.

It had been over two-and-a-half years since he’d received that letter from his Uncle Delun, two months into this long mission. The letter that had sorrowfully informed him that his cousin Deming had died when his division had been massacred by earthbenders. Shoda had burned incense for Deming, mourned his passing and eventually just accepted it and moved on. But what he’d learned yesterday, in the story Iroh had told, had brought back all the old grief and rage… but this time, his rage wasn’t against the Earth Kingdom.

Deming had been _proud_ to become a soldier. He’d meant every word of his oath to serve the Fire Lord and his military commanders. He’d served with honor… and been used as bait for a trap. To General Bujing, and to Fire Lord Ozai, Deming and all his comrades in arms had only been ‘fresh meat’.

To _cold ashes_ with generals like Bujing.

And to ashes with Fire Lord Ozai, too.

Now Shoda was glad that he’d spoken aloud his doubts about little Teiji when the baby had first been brought aboard, and Jee had informed him that his letters home would be inspected as a result. He’d sent no letter to his ‘Uncle Bogai’ on the next mail ship, for fears that someone might realize by some of the awkward phrasing that the letter contained a secret code. Instead he’d been holding onto and gradually adding to his letter to the spymaster over the last few weeks...

But no more. Last night, after the storm had passed, he’d gone up on deck and thrown that letter over the side. He would never spy for Fire Lord Ozai again. Instead, the next time he received any coded instructions from ‘Uncle Bogai’, he’d turn that information over to his prince and captain. He’d have to be careful about it, finding a way to alert Prince Zuko without actually admitting he’d been spying for his father all these years; he _knew_ that information wouldn’t go over well at all, and had no desire to find out just how bad the reaction and his subsequent burns would be. But from now on, instead of spying _on_ the prince and his uncle, Shoda would be spying _for_ them.

…And it looked like he’d be starting that counter-espionage right now. Just before he turned a corner, Shoda glimpsed Kunio walking quickly towards the post office, alone and with a sealed scroll in his hands. Shoda knew well that Kunio was never allowed to go ashore by himself in port, not after that nasty business in Yashu last year; Jee always directed at least one sergeant or corporal to go ashore with him and make sure he didn’t stir up more trouble for the ship. How had he slipped his watchers this time? And more importantly, what was Kunio planning to mail out now that he thought he was unobserved?

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

In the span of just a few minutes, a small and mostly silent crowd of commoners had gathered in the vicinity of the bench that Zuko and Ling Ma sat on. All of them were ostensibly busy doing something, whether counting the coins in their belt pouches or better securing their bundles of purchases, but anyone could tell that all of them were also eavesdropping, curious to find out why in the world a banished prince would be consorting with a crippled peasant, let alone carrying a little boy in his arms.

Tetsuko had managed to put both Zuko and Ling Ma more-or-less at ease, or at least as much ease as a peasant dared have in the presence of even banished royalty, and they’d learned a little bit more about each other’s families. Ling Ma was married to a Yuyan archer named Ichiro, and little Taro was their first child. Tetsuko had informed Ling Ma (and all the eavesdroppers) about how Prince Zuko had found a starving Earth Kingdom baby next to his dead mother in the woods, and decided to take him in and make him his ward to show the Earth Kingdom how beneficent the Fire Nation could be, if the stubborn fools only accepted Fire Nation rule instead of constantly fighting it.

After hearing the tale, Ling Ma praised Prince Zuko for both his mercy and his wisdom, but it sounded too much like the drivel the fawning courtiers back home spouted all the time for Zuko to give any weight to her words. Still, it was… nice to hear other people saying stuff like that about him, whether they really meant it or not. And it was also nice to see all the silent but blatant eavesdroppers nodding their approval of the idea, meaningless though it was (only the Fire Lord’s approval really mattered.)

But so far Tetsuko hadn’t said anything about Teiji’s eyes, or the superstition about mismatched eyes being a sign of witch-blood. And while he was keeping Teiji occupied with the sweet-stick and tummy-tickles and firmly facing _away_ from the curious onlookers, Zuko knew that sooner or later someone would look the baby square in the face instead of from the side, and the squirrel-cat would be out of the bag. What was taking Teru so long to return with the mended akabeko, or its replacement?

Just then Tetsuko picked up Ling Ma’s crutch and looked it over with a mild frown. "I don’t know much doctoring, but I do know wood, and this looks like it’s about to break; see this stress fracture starting right here? After you get your prosthetic fixed, you should get this crutch repaired too. One thing I’ve learned over the last few years is to always have your backups in good repair too."

Zuko started to flush with embarrassed anger, at the reminder of how many times the Wani’s primary systems had failed and they’d had to resort to the backups. How dare Tetsuko bring up their ship’s shortcomings in front of strangers?! But before he could say anything, Ling Ma gave a bitter smile as she echoed, "Prosthetic? Don’t I _wish_. But I don’t even have a wooden leg properly fitted to the stump; the local carver charges more than we can afford. Homemade crutches like this one are all I’ve had for the last six years."

That halted Zuko’s sharp response to Tetsuko before the words passed his lips. No prosthetic? But the Fire Nation had made great advances in prosthetic limbs over the last few decades; no amputee should have to hobble about on wooden sticks any longer. Zuko had seen at least one example with his own eyes; whenever his father had called for a war council meeting, Admiral Maza came striding into the palace with his left leg and foot made of steel, and often making better speed than some of the other officers! And he had heard rumors of a bounty hunter, the very best in the business, that had his right arm _and_ right leg replaced by prostheses but was slowed down by neither.

"Report to Pohuai Stronghold with your discharge papers as proof of service," he addressed Ling Ma directly. "The surgeon there will be able to provide their quartermaster and armorer with the specifications for a prosthetic replacement that will fit you properly."

Ling Ma gave him a look that somehow combined irritation, apprehension and pity, as if she was trying to decide how to break bad news to him; news that she thought he should have been aware of already. "Prosthetic replacements are only for officers, and those who are rich enough to afford them," she said patiently. "My husband and I do not—"

"You’re wrong," Zuko said bluntly. "Prosthetic replacements for lost limbs are available to all war veterans, not just officers! Fire Lord Sozin decreed it so in the 46th year of his reign!" He proceeded to recite from memory, one of the many, many historic decrees that his tutors had rigorously drilled into him during his childhood. There was no arguing that Azula had the better memory for historic battles and strategies, but Zuko remembered this one well, because he’d thought it was one of the kindest things his ancestor had done in his long reign: " ‘All military personnel and all military veterans are eligible for free treatment with the latest advances in medicine, up to ten years after their last date of service.’ That decree was made one hundred and three years ago, and it has never been revoked—and medical treatment includes providing prosthetic replacements for lost limbs!"

Both Ling Ma and Tetsuko were staring at him wide-eyed, as were many of the eavesdroppers; it was clear that none of them had ever heard of Sozin’s 117th National Decree before. Didn’t peasants study their national history _at all,_ beyond just reciting the names of the Fire Lords for the last few centuries?

Teru came back five minutes later with the akabeko hippo-cow mended good as new, and with the news that the toymaker who’d mended the figure also had some fine sets of toy soldiers for sale. But by that time, after further conversation with both Ling Ma and Tetsuko, Zuko had reluctantly decided he had more important things to do now than shop for toys for his son. "We’re going back to the ship," he ordered while getting to his feet, settling Teiji into his carry-sling while directing Tetsuko to pick up little Taro; the boy may have settled down enough to walk alongside his mother again, but he didn’t have time to move at a toddler’s pace right now. "Teru, find my uncle and tell him to forget the pai sho tile and hurry back; we’re going on an expedition."

"News of the Avatar, sir?" Teru asked distractedly, looking with visible confusion at how Tetsuko was picking up a civilian’s child, while he almost automatically helped the mother retrieve her crutch and stand up from the bench.

"No; news of blatant governmental neglect that needs to be dealt with. You, and you," as he pointed firmly to two of the eavesdroppers, who both flinched a little guiltily as they were singled out. "Lend your shoulders and help this woman keep up with us; we need to move fast! Pohuai will close their gates at sundown, and that’s only a few hours away…"

00oo00oo00oo00

Shore leave was precious indeed to the crew of the _Wani_ , but still, a few of them cut short their time ashore or at least checked in with the crew still aboard when they heard the gossip spreading through the docks; that Prince Zuko had first returned to the ship accompanied by a local, a crippled peasant woman—a _married_ woman, no less!—and then lowered the bow less than an hour later, to go back ashore mounted on a komodo-rhino and leading an important-looking procession… that included the crippled peasant. What was going on?

That was the question Tadao asked, when he came back aboard with his most recent purchase tucked under his arm. He was directed down to the nursery, where he found Lieutenant Jee watching over not one but _two_ little boys, happily playing with the wooden farm animals together. "Ashes, is he adopting another one?!" Tadao blurted out in shock.

"Watch your mouth, and no, we’re just minding this one until his mother comes back for him this evening. What’s that under your arm?" Jee asked, eyeing the bundle curiously.

With a sheepish smile, Tadao pulled out and showed him a soft toy komodo-rhino, explaining simply, "For Teiji. I know, he has lots of toys already, but he doesn’t have one of these yet."

Jee gave him a smirk in return as he said, "Finally decided that the witch-child nonsense is all ashes, eh?"

"I guess," Tadao shrugged, though in truth he still had some concerns about that. There had been just one too many coincidences happening in Teiji’s vicinity, from the meeting with those pirates who’d had an Avatar encounter to the massive fish catch a few days ago. But last night he’d decided that there was something more important than that:

After what he’d learned yesterday, and after seeing Prince Zuko risk his own life to save Jiro during the storm, Tadao had vowed he would support his prince and liege lord in any way possible… including supporting his adoption of an Earth Kingdom boy. Teiji might _possibly_ be a witch-child, but he was _definitely_ Prince Zuko’s son-by-heart.

00oo00oo00oo00

Mounted on a komodo-rhino moving at a rapid clip down the dirt road to Pohuai Stronghold, Iroh fought to keep a serious and concerned expression on his face instead of a still-slightly-stunned smile. And he glanced surreptitiously to the side from time to time, half-expecting to see the spirit-kirin that he’d once seen hovering over Teiji to appear alongside, pacing the procession. Events were turning so fortuitous for Prince Zuko at last, he was beginning to suspect more spiritual intervention…

At first he’d been more than a little annoyed, when Teru had come running up to disrupt the pai sho game he’d just started with a colonial shopkeeper. He hadn’t even had time to set out his chewed-on lotus tile, to begin the ritual of signs and countersigns that would establish both him and his opponent as members of the White Lotus Society, and he really needed to check in with his contacts in Pohuai! The agent he’d surreptitiously met back on the docks in Laosing hadn’t had any news for him other than what he already knew, and he needed word on what was happening with Bumi in Omashu.

But his irritation had turned to stunned delight when he’d learned that Zuko wanted his presence as backup while he performed an act of charity here in Pohuai—for a crippled veteran, no less! Zuko seemed to be justifying his actions to himself by claiming he was dealing with governmental neglect, but Iroh had seen the actual concern for Ling Ma’s plight in his eyes. Zuko seemed to see her primarily as a mother in need of help, like Teiji’s poor dead mother, but Iroh would try hard to ensure that the gossip about today’s events would focus on her status as a disabled veteran instead; sheer patriotism would ensure the gossip would spread even further, throughout the colonies to possibly even the Home Islands.

Gossip about such a charitable act could only help his nephew’s reputation, showing him to be a noble prince who actually cared about his people; just the sort of man they would want for the next Fire Lord. And to think they owed this opportunity to improve Zuko’s standing with the colonists, to an ancestral decree that Fire Lord Sozin had made solely as an incentive to get more people to enlist in the military; to build their forces up as much as possible before he’d declared that trumped-up war on the Air Nomads.

Neither Azulon nor Ozai had dared outright revoke the 117th National Decree, once their efforts to conquer the Earth Kingdom had begun resulting in so many military personnel being grievously wounded or crippled in combat, and honorably discharged still in great need of medical care. To revoke that increasingly costly decree would have been to declare that they cared less about the wellbeing of their soldiers than Sozin had, and that would likely have led to a coup d’état by some opportunistic generals.

So instead of revoking the decree, the Fire Lords done their best to bury it in history. It had been ‘accidentally’ left out of all the military regulation manuals created in the last eighty years, and schoolchildren were no longer given complete lists of royal decrees to memorize. But _royal_ children were another matter, and Agni bless his idealistic nephew’s memory, for remembering one minor lesson that his tutor had probably included only because questions would have been raised about the gap between the 116th and 118th National Decrees!

Iroh was drawn from his musings by the sight of Pohuai Stronghold’s massive gates at the end of the road in front of them, and the sound of signal-horns from the watchmen perched atop the giant walls. A tradition for land-based fortresses, the horns simultaneously warned those within the walls that a sizeable party of strangers approached, and challenged them to declare themselves and their intentions. In response, Taozu whipped out the signal-horn they’d grabbed out of storage on the _Wani_ and blew the series of notes that Iroh had quickly drilled him on just before they’d left the ship. A particular sequence that Iroh had once ordered played on a regular basis; the signal that a general who was also royalty was fast approaching.

The massive gates started groaning open the very instant they were close enough for visual confirmation of the horn’s announcement, and Colonel Shinu himself met them as they dismounted inside the courtyard. "Greetings, General Iroh! …and Prince Zuko," he added, almost as an afterthought. At Iroh’s side, Zuko bristled at the implied insult but said nothing as Shinu continued with a smile for his old acquaintance, "So what has brought the Dragon of the West to my doorstep?"

"We are here on a mission, one that will result in improving the well-being of your local veterans," Iroh informed Shinu with a return smile, before gesturing to his right. "But as my good nephew Prince Zuko is the one who both discovered the need _and_ knows the solution, I will let him give you the details."

00oo00oo00oo00

Getting help for Ling Ma took _hours_. Zuko was acutely aware of the sand trickling through the metaphorical hourglass on his time ashore, but he doggedly stuck to his mission, until they finally had Colonel Shinu’s understanding and full support.

Colonel Shinu had been politely courteous towards Ling Ma when he’d introduced her; it turned out that the commanding officer had briefly encountered the commoner during the last colony festival, and remembered vaguely that she was married to one of his Yuyan archers. He hadn’t been aware then that she was also a veteran, but once he was informed he immediately thanked her for her service to her nation.

Shinu’s polite courtesy vanished soon afterwards, when Zuko informed him that he was obligated to see to it that Ling Ma was immediately fitted for a prosthetic replacement, one with the latest advances in mobility. He turned away from her timidly hopeful expression to icily inform Zuko that he was under no obligation to drain his base’s budget for medical care, to take care of people who were no longer on active duty; they had a hard enough time keeping the infirmary stocked with the rare and costly medications for treating Fire Fever, for which the Pohuai region was downright notorious for having epidemics on a frequent basis.

And when Zuko insisted that medical treatment for veterans was covered under Sozin’s 117th National Decree, Shinu retorted that he’d heard of no such thing! Zuko couldn’t decide whether he was actually that ignorant, or that ox-mulishly obstinate (but he managed, just barely, to hold in his temper enough to keep from saying that aloud.) He actually had to send a hawk-message to the Fire Temple back in town, ordering the layman there to send them a copy of the decree from the archives that every Fire Temple kept on hand, to prove to Shinu that the decree existed.

Thankfully it took less than half an hour for the hawk to return with the cleric’s response, confirming word-for-word Zuko’s memory of the decree. Shinu begrudgingly admitted his obligation, as the highest authority in the region, to see that Ling Ma got proper medical treatment for at least another three-and-a-half years. "But she’s not the only crippled veteran living in the colony," he grumbled. "When word gets out that she’s getting special treatment and why, I’ll be honor-bound to give the same to all the others who were discharged in the last ten years. Cursed if I know how we’re going to pay for all this…"

Uncle Iroh had been quiet for most of the last hour, except for suggesting they have tea (of course) while waiting for the messenger hawk to return from the Fire Temple. But now he spoke up to say with a sly smile, "And _that_ is why _I_ am here. Prince Zuko is well versed on all our ancestors’ decrees, as befits the heir to the throne. But I have had rather more experience than he has, in navigating the seas of finance in our nation’s capital. I know exactly which treasury fund the money for these veterans’ treatment should be coming from, and how to requisition it for your budget. Would you kindly send for your chief quartermaster? It would be easier to explain this to both of you at once."

Shinu’s eyebrows shot right up to his pepper-gray hairline as he sent for his chief quartermaster. And soon Iroh was lecturing both Shinu and the quartermaster, who was writing information down as fast as he could. Listening in, Zuko tried hard to memorize everything his uncle said, in case they had to have this conversation again at the next colony.

By the time Iroh was done and the quartermaster was drafting the formal request for Shinu to sign and send to the capital, the sun was sinking in the west. And Shinu had gone from frowns to wide smiles again, as he sent for not just Ling Ma’s husband Ichiro, but the Yuyan archer’s lieutenant as well. "I’m going to send a message to Admiral Maza, to find out who crafted his prosthetic leg, and then request the man be sent here on special assignment to show our armorers how it’s done," he informed Ling Ma and her husband together. "I expect you’ll be running after that toddler of yours before the month is out! Lieutenant Heng, what was the name of that archer we lost two years ago, when that wolf-gator took his hand?"

"Hiroshi, sir," the leader of the Yuyan archers said with a bow and a hopeful expression. "He still lives nearby; shall I send a message to him?"

"You shall indeed; to tell him he’s next in line after Ling Ma."

"Thank you, sir! May Agni bless your generosity!" as both Yuyan archers simultaneously bowed deeply to the colonel.

"Your thanks should go to their royal highnesses," Shinu said as he gestured towards them. "Without their knowledge and wisdom, this generosity would not be possible."

"Your thanks should go entirely to Prince Zuko," Uncle Iroh said hurriedly before the commoners could bow again. "It is not just his knowledge of our nation’s history, but his passion for the welfare of our people and his determination to see justice done, that have created this happy occasion." And then everyone— _including Colonel Shinu_ —bowed low to Zuko in thanks.

Was it really possible to grow two inches taller on the spot? Because he sure felt like it right then…

After they all straightened up, Colonel Shinu dismissed the Yuyan archers and Ling Ma went with them, to spread the happy news through the archers’ barracks. "This is a happy occasion indeed; I’ve always hated seeing former good soldiers reduced to begging in the streets," Shinu said as he signed the request the quartermaster had just finished writing, then sent the man off to the hawk-tower. "This decree will result in far less of that in the future. Your highnesses, will you be staying for dinner? My cook sets an excellent table, if I do say so myself."

"Thank you for the invitation, and we gladly accept!" Iroh said with a grin before Zuko could say anything. "Allow us to send a message to our ship, to let them know we’ll be here a while longer." And then, displaying his uncanny and irritating talent for mind-reading, his uncle turned to him and said, "Yes, it will be long past Teiji’s bedtime by the time we return, but most children are delighted to stay up late if given the opportunity! And if Lieutenant Jee puts him to bed before we get back, you can simply show him his new toy soldiers tomorrow morning."

"What toy soldiers?" Zuko said with a resigned sigh, glancing out the window at the sun beginning to sink below the horizon. He knew from experience that the more respectable shops closed their doors at sunset, leaving only the taverns and whorehouses open for business. Even if they left the base right that minute, the toy shops would all be closed by the time they reached the market.

"Toy soldiers—and _children_?" Shinu echoed, staring at them incredulously. "You have _children_ aboard your ship?!"

"We do indeed," Iroh said as he turned back to Shinu with a firm nod. "It’s highly unorthodox and bending regulations to the breaking point, but we have a permanent ‘guest’ aboard; I think of him as my grandson by adoption. Let me tell you the story…"

As they walked from Colonel Shinu’s office to the hawk-tower, Uncle Iroh told the story of how they’d found Teiji and decided to take him aboard their ship, leaving out the part about the kirin-spirit, but including his mismatched eyes and the peasants’ accusations that he was a witch-child. Zuko guessed that his uncle knew Colonel Shinu well enough to know that he put no stock in such superstitions.

While not expressing any superstitions about witchcraft, Shinu was clearly skeptical about the wisdom of a sixteen-year-old, unmarried and currently banished prince adopting an Earth Kingdom peasant child as his ward. But he didn’t express those doubts, other than one neutral comment about it being rare for someone as young as Zuko to become a father-figure. He also surmised that no doubt Zuko was benefiting from his uncle’s presence and experience in child-rearing--and smiled, as did Iroh, when Zuko fervently agreed.

Colonel Shinu also agreed that the adoption would be a highly visible sign of the Fire Nation’s beneficence towards the Earth Kingdom, "Once the rock-heads stop fighting and accept our rule. And you were looking for a good set of toy soldiers for him before you came across Ling Ma, eh?" He grinned and made an expansive gesture as he said, "Your Highnesses, as a fellow father and grandfather, permit me the honor of buying and sending to you the finest possible set of toy soldiers for your little boy. A set that will include a squad of Yuyan archers!"

"Wonderful! Thank you very much for your kindness!" Uncle Iroh said with a grin as they reached the hawk-tower, and Zuko gladly echoed his thanks. Inwardly he was a little disappointed at not being able to find and choose the toys himself, but most soldier sets didn’t include archers; Shinu was probably planning to get them a custom-made set, one that Zuko just wouldn’t have had enough time in port to wait for. It would be worth the wait to have a really high-quality set of toy soldiers for his son!

While they’d been walking across the fortress, Zuko had been discreetly eyeing his surroundings, and by the time they’d reached the hawk-tower he was sure he’d figured out a better way to sneak into the stronghold and the inner offices than he’d used last time. But after sending a message to the Wani telling them of the delay, since Shinu was in such a good mood and treating them as guests, he dared to openly ask, "While we’re waiting for dinner, may I review all the reports on recent activities in the region, to see if there are any signs that the Avatar is in the area?"

That got a frown from Colonel Shinu, but a slow nod as well. "It’s against regulations to show those reports to personnel outside the appropriate chain of command, except on a ‘need to know’ basis… but given your mission, the two of you definitely have a need to know. And more experience in finding and tracking that flying menace than anyone in Pohuai has, that’s for certain. Let me talk to the cook, and then we can return to my office until dinner is ready."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Shinu let him read every report that had arrived within the last four days, but all Zuko could find worth noting was one report that a strange animal had been sighted yesterday morning, a massive white-furred beast with an arrow-like marking on its forehead, grazing in fields near a small fishing village far to the south of the stronghold.

"The Avatar’s sky bison!" Zuko said with excitement in his voice as he checked the time given on the report, and the location against a map of the region that Shinu had on the wall of his office. "This was just a few hours before we ran into that out-of-season storm. And Jee told me last night that right after the lightning struck, we actually had sightings right in the middle of that storm…"

"Crawling Koh’s coils!" Shinu swore as he stared at them. "You mean to say the Avatar _caused_ that storm?!"

"I do not believe so, Colonel," Iroh interjected, looking grave. "I was actually on deck for that first brief sighting, while the prince returned below deck with the crewman he’d just rescued from falling to his death. It was only a short glimpse, no more than a minute before the driving rain and massive waves hid him from our view, but from what I could see that sky bison was floundering, barely staying out of the water. Even if he had the ability, I doubt the Avatar would deliberately cause that storm and then endanger his animal companion in it."

Zuko barely paid attention to their exchange as he studied the map. The Avatar sightings fit the pattern he’d already established, that the boy and his companions were traveling steadily northward; probably heading for the Northern Water Tribe for training in waterbending. The sighting in that fishing village confirmed that the Avatar was still following the coast of the mainland, instead of trying to skip from rock to rock in that chain of tiny and largely uninhabited islands far offshore. Probably because there wasn’t enough vegetation on some of those islands to keep that massive animal well-fed, he decided.

Assuming that his uncle’s impression during their glimpse was right, and the sky bison had been hard-pressed by that storm… By all reports, the Avatar regarded that animal as more a friend than a beast of burden. After exhausting his mount in the storm, it would make sense to find someplace to hole up for a couple of days and let his bison rest and recover before journeying on. And the mountains of this region probably offered many places for even a massive white-furred creature to hide for a while… He just knew it, he could even _feel_ it again; the Avatar was somewhere close by!

But before Zuko could announce his deduction, Colonel Shinu’s cook appeared to let them know that dinner was ready, and Uncle Iroh eagerly all but dragged him after them to the dining hall.

Dinner was delicious, but Zuko barely tasted any of it. At first because he was preoccupied with thoughts of tracking down the Avatar, and what could be done to flush him out of those mountains. Capturing him there would be next to impossible, so long as the sky bison was still capable of flying; Zuko had no catapult on a portable platform that could be brought into the mountains for taking him down. But if they could determine just which mountain or valley he was hiding in, then perhaps they could make deliberately loud approaches from many different angles at once, to flush him out in one particular direction; back to the shore where the _Wani_ would be ready and waiting…

Then Zuko was drawn from his silent planning by Colonel Shinu saying curiously, "How has your crew reacted to having a child with mismatched eyes aboard your ship? That’s got to have an effect on morale and discipline."

"Indeed it has, but the effect has been mostly positive!" Iroh said proudly. "Zuko, why don’t you tell our host about some of the changes that have occurred with the crew since Teiji was brought aboard?"

"Well…" Zuko rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment at being put on the spot so unexpectedly—especially since the first change he’d thought of had been ‘the crew doesn’t seem to hate me as much as they used to.’

There was absolutely no way he could say that without sounding pathetic, so he didn’t. Instead, he talked about the cribs the crew had built, the nursery they’d made out of the auxiliary armory, and even the toys a few crewmen had whittled out of scrap wood in their free time; crewmen who normally turned to gambling or other vices when they were off duty, which had more negative effects on overall morale. He also talked about the ‘nursery watch’ that most of the crew seemed to think was as much a privilege as a duty; they worked harder and behaved more responsibly at their primary duties, because those who slacked off were considered ineligible for the nursery watch.

"Most of them have even cleaned up their language, not swearing nearly as often as they used to, and without my having to remind them of Teiji’s innocent ears," Zuko said just before taking a bite of komodo-chicken—and was mildly surprised to find it was his last bite, looking down at his now empty dish; he’d actually spent most of the meal talking about Teiji and his crew.

"All in all, morale and discipline have definitely improved," Iroh concluded with a cheery wave of his chopsticks before he set them aside, patting his belly. "Ahh, that was truly an excellent dinner; the finest I have had in years! Please pass on our highest compliments to your kitchen staff. But now we really should be going; in addition to our Teiji, Ichiro and Ling Ma’s little boy is no doubt wishing his parents were there to tuck him into bed."

Colonel Shinu smiled and said he understood, and he magnanimously gave his Yuyan archer permission to accompany his wife back to the _Wani_ , and spend the night and next day in the colony with his family. Ichiro bowed his thanks to the colonel and mounted up behind Taozu, while Ling Ma got back onto Tetsuko’s komodo-rhino. Their party was just about to signal for the gates to be opened when the watchmen atop the walls blew their horns in warning; another unexpected party was approaching the fortress!

Shinu and Iroh traded questioning glances, which still weren’t answered when the approaching party sounded their own horn, in a sequence Zuko wasn’t familiar with. "A naval officer—a commodore?" Shinu murmured. "It can’t be Commodore Butan; his flagship left a week ago for the Northern Fleet."

"Well whoever it is, he’s high-ranked enough to warrant opening the gates for him after curfew, particularly since you were going to open them anyway for our departure," Iroh said as he swung onto his komodo-rhino with practiced ease. "Thank you again for your hospitality, Colonel; do send us a message to let us know how your veterans take to their new prostheses!" The massive gates groaned open, and the watchmen saluted them as they rode outside.

Less than a minute after they cleared the gates Zuko saw the approaching party, also mounted on komodo-rhinos, as well as who was leading them—and he hissed in shock and anger, while the komodo-rhino’s reins began to smoke in his grip. It was Zhao! Zhao, the execrable gloryhound who’d tried to interfere with his mission to capture the Avatar, and then dishonorably attacked Zuko from behind after he’d been fairly beaten in the Agni Kai.

Zhao stared at them with a scowl of surprised anger that might have matched Zuko’s own expression, but it melted into a haughty sneer as he drew near enough to greet them. "Well, if it isn’t the _disgraced and banished_ prince!" he said loudly. "Still daring to show your face—or what’s left of it—around civilized people?"

Zuko was so _furious_ at the insults that he was momentarily rendered speechless, but Iroh was under no such handicap. "Greetings, Zhao," he called out from several paces behind, his voice seemingly pleasant, but with such an edge that Zuko knew without looking that his smile was showing all his teeth. "How was your visit to _Crescent Island_?"

Zhao flinched, and his face reddened in angered embarrassment. At the reminder of Zhao’s own and far more disastrous failure to capture the Avatar, Zuko found himself snickering as they passed each other on the road.

Zhao heard the snickering, and his expression turned positively _livid_ as he passed on Zuko’s left. Just as Uncle Iroh kicked his mount into a faster pace, drawing up not quite abreast with Zuko on his left; getting between Zuko and Zhao, with his grim expression warning the officer against trying anything like he had last month. But Zhao kept his fire to himself this time, instead spurring his mount into a final burst of speed towards the still-open fortress gates.

After they heard the massive gates clang shut behind Zhao’s party, Zuko asked his uncle, "What’s Zhao doing here? What do you think he’s after?"

Iroh could only shrug in response and say, "I expect we’ll find out sooner or later. For now, let’s just get back to the ship; it’s been a long day, and a man needs his rest."

Rested and refreshed from Taozu and Tetsuko’s care while they’d been at the fortress, the komodo-rhinos made good time, and just under an hour later they arrived on the docks where the _Wani_ was moored. Zuko looked out towards the mouth of the harbor, where the colony had anchored a huge floating platform and crane for servicing the much larger ships that had keels too deep for mooring at the piers. There he saw a destroyer-class vessel over twice the size of the _Wani_ , presumably Zhao’s flagship, and he again wondered uneasily what purpose Zhao had in visiting Pohuai Stronghold.

Just then the faint, high-pitched screech of a messenger hawk reached his sharp ears, and he searched the twilight sky until he saw its barely discernible silhouette, approaching from west-by-southwest—coming from Zhao’s ship, or clear from the Fire Nation?

Zuko’s heart began pounding as the hawk flew closer, closer—and then right over him, continuing inland. Whatever message it carried wasn’t for him, then; it was not the letter from his father that he both hoped for and dreaded in equal measure. The hawk seemed to be heading right for Pohuai Stronghold; probably a message for Colonel Shinu, he decided, and then dismissed the matter as his crewmen began to lower the boarding ramp for their return.

Once they were aboard, since the ladders between decks were too difficult for Ling Ma to handle, he told her husband Ichiro to follow him up to the nursery where their sons were being minded while she stayed by the still-lowered ramp to the dock. The archer followed without a word, evidently choosing to embody the Yuyan’s reputation of being as silent as they were lethally accurate, even when he was off duty.

But the Yuyan archer’s silence was broken when Zuko opened the nursery door for him, and they both saw the two toddler boys playing with (and teething on) wooden stacking rings. "Taro!" Ichiro said happily, his voice warm as springtime.

Taro dropped the wooden ring he’d been gnawing on, squealed "Daddy!" and ran straight for his father’s arms, with Teiji scrambling right behind him but making a beeline for Zuko instead. Both men scooped up and cuddled their sons, then smiled at each other in mutual recognition of fatherhood.

"And here’s your son’s little hippo-cow, in his very own stall," Jee offered as he picked the mended akabeko figure up from the nursery’s changing table. The hippo-cow now rested in a small oblong and high-sided basket with a handle, one that had been modified to put a dip in the front end so the bobbing head just peeked over it. "After we heard what had happened to it, two of our crewmen whipped that up this afternoon," Jee explained as he handed the basket over. "Now your boy can carry it in the basket; safer that way."

"Thank you all, for your great generosity," Ichiro said quietly as Taro grabbed the basket handle. Moving more slowly with his son in his arms, he bowed to Jee, and then bowed again to Prince Zuko. After straightening up the archer said very seriously, "Your highness, you have given hope and happiness to my family, and to the whole of the Yuyan Clan. If ever you have need, my bow is in your service."

"Thank you," Zuko said formally, with a regal nod of acknowledgment. Just then Teiji interrupted his own happy and largely incomprehensible babbling to give a huge yawn. Zuko figured he hadn’t even had a nap in the nursery that day, not when there another little boy his own age to play with. "Ready for bed, aren’t you, son?" Zuko murmured.

"It is time I put my own son to bed as well," Ichiro murmured, before his voice shifted into the warmer tones as he addressed Taro. "That’s right, Taro, I’ll be going home with your and your mother to put you to bed tonight; another special weekday treat!"

"Daddy sing?" Taro asked, looking hopeful.

"…Yes, I’ll sing your lullaby tonight," Ichiro said after his eyes darted sideways at Zuko and Jee. "Now it’s time to go; wave bye-bye to your new playmate. Your Highness, Lieutenant, thank you again for everything you’ve done; may Agni bless you for all your generosity. There’s no need to escort me down to the ramp where my wife is waiting; I remember the way."

Of course there was a need to escort him; regulations expressly stated that no guest aboard the ship would traverse it unescorted for at least the first 48 hours aboard. And ordinarily Zuko would have pointed that out, but he’d noted the suddenly darting eyes and increased tension in Ichiro’s shoulders. Suddenly, the archer was _hiding something_ , and just as suddenly, Zuko was determined to find out what. If whatever the unknown factor was turned out to be a possible threat to his ship, he was going to deal with it personally!

So he held up a hand to forestall whatever Jee was about to say (probably quoting the same regulations Zuko had been thinking about just then) while saying with what he hoped was still a friendly-looking smile, "Fare well, archer; I hope to receive a letter soon about Ling Ma’s new prosthetic limb."

Ichiro bowed once more, then held his son to his chest with one hand while carefully descending the nearby ladder with the other. Zuko had made a show of turning away from the ladder to walk down the passageway in the opposite direction, deliberately hitting the creakiest spots in the deckplates, but as soon as he heard Ichiro descending six rungs on the ladder—his head would be below the level of the deck at that point—he pivoted and ghost-footed back to the nursery, to hand Teiji back to Jee, put a finger to his lips for silence, and urgently gesture for his lieutenant to go back inside the nursery. Jee gave him a weird look, but silently obeyed and shut the door.

No one knew the _Wani_ better than Zuko. In the past two years and ten months at sea he’d been over every single inch of his ship, not just from the bow to the stern but from the whistle to the bilge spaces. He knew where to step to avoid making any noise, and as he crouched and listened intently at the ladder well, he could tell just by the sound of the archer’s steps exactly which way he was going. So far, he was backtracking along the way Zuko had led him, going back in the direction of the bow ramp. Down the next ladder, which was Zuko’s cue to tuck and flip himself through the access hatch, and hang by his hands for just a moment before landing lightly on the deck below. He snuck to the next ladder well, and listened in again as the baby Taro asked for the third time, "Daddy sing? Pwetty pease?"

He heard Ichiro give a resigned sigh and say, "All right, son. At least we’re not on base right now…" The archer cleared his throat and sang in a light tenor,

"Earth rumbles, then settles as we do for sleep,

The fire crackles with a warming glow,

The wind rushes high, and the river runs deep,

As they sing what you already know,

You already know:

Evermore I will love you, evermore I will stay

Ever with you in spirit, never so far away.

And though I know some day you’ll go to find your way alone,

Evermore I will love you, you are ever my own.

Zuko was absolutely transfixed as he listened in. Now that he knew what the archer had been hiding—an almost feminine-sounding singing voice; definitely not something expected of a Yuyan—he knew he should return to the nursery and give father and son their privacy, but… the song Ichiro was singing, it sounded _so right_ …

‘Though nothing’s as certain as seasons and time,

And nothing will be as before,

Still every way and always, it’s certain that I’m

With you forever, evermore:

Evermore I will love you, evermore I will stay

Ever with you in spirit, never so far away.

And though I know some day you’ll go to find your way alone,

Evermore I will love you, you are ever my own.

Ever my son,

Forever… and evermore."

Then Ichiro stopped singing; the song—lullaby?—was over. And Zuko found himself scrambling for the quartermaster’s office, on the same deck but half the ship’s length away from where he’d been crouched and listening. If he could just get there in time!

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Ichiro had been raised to stoicism as well as the bow. Displaying too much happiness was considered as childish and unseemly as bawling or throwing temper tantrums. Which was pretty much the only reason why he hadn’t started dancing a jig or cheering till the rafters echoed with his joy, after all the good news he’d received that day.

He’d been surprised and worried when he’d heard that Ling Ma was at the stronghold, instead of home with Taro; the rumors flying across the base hadn’t said _why_ she was there, only that she was in the company of banished royalty, which hadn’t eased Ichiro’s worries one notch. But then he’d been called to the colonel’s office, and seen the look on Ling Ma’s face…

It was very the nearly same look of shocked hope and joy that she’d had on her face four years ago, when she’d realized that the panda lily in her hands hadn’t been given out of pity for the cripple, but because Ichiro had finally gotten up the nerve to confess the crush he’d had on her since they were schoolchildren together.

He’d had to tell Ling Ma more than once, even after they were married, that he didn’t care that she was missing her right foot; it changed nothing about how he’d always felt about her. But the truth was, he did care, because he knew how much she hated being handicapped. How frustrated she became, having to rely on cursed crutches all the time; not being able to even walk while carrying things in both hands anymore. Thank Agni his in-laws made wonderful grandparents, since they really needed the live-in help with handling Taro while Ichiro was away on base all week.

Ling Ma’s parents must be frantic with worry by now, if no one had thought to send them a message explaining why she hadn’t returned home from the market hours ago. But they’d be happily surprised soon enough, when he came home with her and Taro, and likely as delighted as he was right now with the good news about medical care for veterans. With a really good prosthetic replacement for her missing foot, Ling Ma would be able to do so much more! Not just run after little Taro, as Colonel Shinu had said, but go on long romantic walks with him, cook meals and do other work in the kitchen more easily… maybe even spar with him again, her _naginata_ against his—

"Ichiro!" And suddenly Prince Zuko was right in front of him, and it was all he could do to keep from shifting into a one-armed fighting stance, surprise triggering protective instincts. He’d left the prince behind at the nursery; how had that teenager gotten in front of him?! Had he gotten turned around on the ship after all?

The prince thrust a slate board and chalk at him, and ordered, "Write it down."

"Your highness?" Ichiro managed to get past his suddenly too-dry lips.

"That song you were singing earlier," as the prince blushed hot pink on one side of his face, while shoving the slate board out further. "You want to thank me for helping your wife, and your old comrade? Write down that song for me, every word."

He’d been overheard?! Ichiro just knew his ears were burning nearly as red as his Yuyan tattoo… But the prince wasn’t mocking him; instead, he just wanted to know the words to the song. Probably because the prince wanted his own son to hear it, Ichiro privately decided as he sat down right there in the passageway, set Taro and his akabeko-in-a-basket down within the circle of his legs, and accepted the slate and chalk. Taro played with the akabeko and happily accepted a sweet-stick that the prince had been keeping tucked up his sleeve, while Ichiro began writing the words to the Pohuai lullaby he thought of as ‘Evermore’. It really was the least he could do for the prince today.

When he finally finished writing it down and handed the slate and chalk back, the prince snatched them up, now blushing almost as red as his scar, and vanished around the nearest corner without even a thank you. Ichiro didn’t mind, though; he understood. When someone violated the Man Code in such an obvious fashion, even for a good cause, it was best not spoken of afterwards. He got back to his feet, picked up Taro and his toy, and hummed ‘Evermore’ under his breath as he strode back to the ramp where Ling Ma would be waiting.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The next morning brought overcast skies and scattered thundershowers, though they didn’t look to be nearly as bad as the storm that had battered the _Wani_ two days ago. Aboard the ship, Cheung approached the royals’ table at breakfast time and said he had finished the portrait Prince Zuko had commissioned; would His Highness like to see it? Zuko smiled and said he would, and asked Cheung to bring it right into the mess hall.

Cheung came back five minutes later with a portrait under his arm, and bowed before revealing it with a flourish: a double portrait of Iroh and Teiji, both elder and youngster grinning happily at each other. Teiji babbled and clapped when he saw it; Zuko smiled and said he’d done excellent work, and Cheung could stop by his cabin later for his payment. Iroh praised both Zuko’s thoughtfulness and Cheung’s consummate talent with a brush, and declared it a finer portrait of him than the official one hanging back in the palace!

And then he declared the portrait had inspired him: "I am determined to look as good once more as this wonderful portrait of me! Cheung faithfully included nearly every line that a long life of experience has carved on my features, but he left off at least thirty pounds, and so I shall lose them too! But I shall require the assistance of our fine cook, Chu Si," as he turned to the cook, who had stepped out of the galley to see the portrait too. "Chu Si, from this day forth, I can be allowed to have only one serving of each dish you make for our table. Please don’t serve me seconds, even if I succumb to weakness for your culinary delights and beg for more!"

Chu Si looked a little sad but solemnly agreed to the general’s wishes, while Zuko fought to conceal a smirk. His uncle had complained two weeks ago of having to eat far more than he really wanted to, because he’d gotten into the habit of asking for seconds to please their volatile-tempered cook. Trust his clever uncle to find a way of breaking that habit at last, without insulting Chu Si and resulting in burned dinners for everyone!

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

By high noon the worst of the damage to the bridge had been repaired by the Pohuai shipyard workers, and they’d taken on enough supplies and replacement parts to fix more damage themselves later on. After Taro made one more trip into the markets at Zuko’s request, the crew cast off and the _Wani_ left port, hugging the coastline as they cruised north instead of going out into deeper waters. The towers of Pohuai Stronghold were still visible over the trees lining the rocky shore, as Zuko called both Lieutenant Jee and his uncle over to the map table and explained his plan.

"It’s going to take a lot of fast movement over land and synchronization, but if we can pull it off we’ll drive the Avatar right where we want him, within catapult range. We land two different expeditions, in this inlet here… and this one here. And once they’re ashore, each expedition splits in half, so there will be a total of four units out in the mountains, each unit being one komodo-rhino and two riders. One rider will be a firebender of level 4 or above in power, and the other is going to be equipped with a signal-horn, a drum and a sack filled with fireworks that I had the quartermaster buy this morning."

"I believe I see what you have in mind," Uncle Iroh said, stroking his beard and looking thoughtful. "Send out four parties to make a lot of noise and fireballs, in hopes of flushing the Avatar out like a fox-pheasant and sending him in the direction of the ship. But Prince Zuko, if you’ll forgive me saying so… the Avatar is human, and considerably more intelligent than your average fox-pheasant."

" ‘A man surprised out of a sound sleep is apt to leave his wits behind in bed.’ You told me that yourself just last year," Zuko retorted, secretly more than a little gleeful to be able to toss one of his uncle’s proverbs right back in his face. "If we plan for the diversion to start at the first light of dawn, then we have an excellent chance of startling the Avatar awake. Throw enough fireballs into the air while the riders shout, blow and beat for all they’re worth, and they’ll be able to fool someone at a distance into thinking they’re much larger forces. For all his power, the Avatar still prefers to run instead of fight. And if we can get the men into the right positions, drive him in the right direction, he’ll run right into our trap."

"Where are you planning to deploy the beater units to?" Jee asked, staring at the map with interest.

"That’s going to be the hardest part," Zuko admitted. "Getting four komodo-rhinos carrying double mounts far enough inland, to these points: here, here, here and here," as he pointed to four spots on the map, each one miles apart, setting small markers on each spot. Connecting the four spots made one-third of a circle, with Pohuai Stronghold to the south completing a half-circle on the map that encompassed the region’s stretch of coastal hills. "The first two will be reached from this inlet—see these trails? And the next two from this inlet. This route will be the hardest, and longest distance to travel; that unit will take my komodo-rhino. Thunderstrike is bad-tempered for everyone but me, I know, but they can bring along one of my shirts for her to scent. And as many sugared apricot pieces as they can sneak out of the galley," he added with a smirk that Jee returned.

"We’ll have to spread the net wide, I know, but without knowing exactly which hill the Avatar is hiding on, this is our only option. At first light, the beaters will start making noise and--" Zuko was interrupted, not by Jee or his uncle, but by the sudden blaring of a ship’s horn—and not the _Wani_ ’s horn, either! Everyone traded startled glances, and then scrambled outside to see a much larger warship bearing down on them.

Zuko stared at the much larger ship, which was now slowing and gradually changing its angle of approach to indicate coming alongside instead of ramming—thank Agni for small favors—and had his worst suspicions confirmed when he glimpsed the officer standing at the bow. They were still too far apart for him to make out individual features, but he just knew in his guts that he was looking right at _Zhao_ , looking to interfere in his mission again.

"Jee, go back in and take those markers off the map," he ordered without looking at his lieutenant. "And tell everyone on the bridge that they’d better forget every single thing we’ve said for the last ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," Jee said crisply. "Shall I also change out the map for one further north, such as the Yu Dao coastline?"

"Good idea; do it. You can even tell the crew that Uncle and I have been heard muttering about going to Yu Dao next; that’s actually the truth."

Jee turned and went back inside, but Zuko stood his ground as the warship drew nearer, refusing to give even the slightest sign of weakness or backing away from the likes of Zhao. Twenty minutes later, the ships had matched course and speed, a boarding ramp between the two ships was set in place, and Zhao came aboard with three of his ship’s officers… and with an _admiral’s_ collar devices on his uniform.

Zhao stood there with an arrogant smirk on his face, making sure Zuko and everyone else got a good look at his new rank insignia, while one of his lieutenants unrolled a scroll and announced, "Admiral Zhao now commands this entire region. All information regarding the Avatar must be reported directly to him."

In response, the first words out of Zuko’s mouth were not to Zhao, but to Jee instead. "Lieutenant, go to my cabin and bring back my copy of the ‘Manual of Military Justice and Discipline.’ I need to refresh my memory on what sort of punishment should be meted out for someone _impersonating an officer of higher rank_ ," as he stared meaningfully right at Zhao’s admiral insignia.

"Yes, sir!" Jee said with a snappy salute and a barely-concealed smirk, as Zhao’s face flushed red.

"How _dare_ you?!" Zhao snarled, his fists clenched. "I was appointed to this rank by the Fire Lord himself!"

"Prove it," Zuko shot right back, his eyes narrowed. "My father is not stupid or a fool—and only a fool would promote you to a higher rank after your _utter failure_ with the blockade fleet! We know what really happened there, Zhao," he continued as his uncle stepped up right beside him, and as Zhao stepped back a pace while reddening even further. "The Avatar _flew right over you_ , and you couldn’t stop him! And then instead of sending messenger hawks calling for the Home Guard to intercept him, you decided to _leave your post_ to chase after him _without telling anybody_ , trying to get all the glory of capturing him for yourself. And what happened? The Avatar destroyed the Fire Temple, one of our nation’s most sacred sites, and on your watch!"

"Wh-who told you all— _that’s not what happened_!" Zhao almost screamed, even though his own officers were giving him looks that all but shouted ‘busted!’ He insisted, "The Avatar sneaked the long way around the blockade—and the Fire Sages turned traitor, wrecking their own temple to help him escape! And none of that matters now; I can prove my appointment to the rank of admiral! You!" as he spun and pointed to one of his staff. "Go fetch the black-ribboned scroll sitting on my desk!"

Five minutes later, Zuko and Iroh were both staring in dismay at the scroll Zhao had all but shoved in their faces; the message promoting Zhao to the rank of Admiral, effective immediately. They both knew the Fire Lord’s personal seal… and what’s more, they were both intimately familiar with his style of calligraphy; they could tell it had been written not by a secretary, but by Fire Lord Ozai himself. "What was he _thinking_?" Zuko murmured, but his uncle had no answer for him.

"Isn’t it obvious? He was thinking that the task of capturing the Avatar should go to someone more competent, more resourceful, and just plain better than you," Zhao sneered, relishing their dismay.

"But… but capturing the Avatar is _my_ _mission_! He declared it so himself; made it part of the terms of my banishment! And without the Avatar in chains, I can’t…" Zuko voice trailed off, as his throat tightened; till he found himself physically incapable of finishing that sentence.

Zhao’s gloating smile was the very essence of condescension. "Are you really just now realizing, what I told you nearly two months ago? The Fire Lord _doesn’t want you back_!"

" ** _That is enough, Zhao_!** " Iroh abruptly thundered, so fiercely that Zhao backed off a full three paces while his officers all but bolted for cover; _the Dragon of the West_ was roaring.

Then Iroh seemed to deflate where he stood, and said tiredly, "If you are done gloating, then I believe your business here is concluded. As should be obvious by the fact that we are not steaming back to the Fire Nation this very minute, we do not have the Avatar aboard. The only certain information that we can offer you, is that the prince will certainly continue searching for him."

"And the prince’s crew will certainly give him their best efforts in that search," Lieutenant Jee unexpectedly spoke up, having returned from Zuko’s cabin with the requested manual tucked under his arm. Startled, Zuko couldn’t help glancing sideways at him, but Jee looked straight ahead while standing perfectly at attention.

Zhao just snorted in response, "Some crew; composed of the dregs of the fleet! …And of babies still in diapers, if the rumors buzzing around Pohuai are true," as he stepped up again to give Zuko a look that was probably supposed to be disgusted, but was marred by the vicious glee glinting in his eyes. "Bringing your bastard spawn aboard ship, boy? Have you no shame at all?"

Up until that moment, Zuko had indeed been feeling horribly ashamed; ashamed that his father didn’t even think he could fulfill the mission set for him, and ashamed at his showing weakness in front of Zhao. But at his hated enemy’s words, all his shame was evaporated by a burst of righteous anger as he snarled, "Don’t you **_ever_** call Teiji a bastard! I am _adopting_ an orphaned child as my ward, and his mother was an honorable woman up to the moment of her death!"

Zhao’s look turned from disgusted to incredulous. "You’re… adopting? _You_? That’s preposterous! A face like yours could only make a child scream and cry!"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Iroh was a man of many regrets. He now regretted the decades he’d spent waging war on the Earth Kingdom. He regretted not stopping Zuko from entering the war room nearly three years ago, and not finding some means of stopping that Agni Kai before it happened. He had accumulated many, many regrets over the years and decades of his life… But this was perhaps the first time he’d ever regretted showing mercy to someone. Namely Zhao; he had once vowed never to kill again, but he really should have killed Zhao the moment that dishonorable scum had tried to kill Zuko from behind.

The worst part was, one thing Zhao had said was what Iroh had been longing to say out loud to Zuko for _years_. Longed to say but dared not, for fear of Zuko rejecting him utterly; the boy just would not believe that his father did not love him and was not even capable of loving him. No, he always believed the fault was in _him_ instead of in Ozai’s corpse-white and shriveled heart!

Zhao was scum, but he was cunning scum; he had figured out where Zuko’s sorest spots were and was prodding them hard. And curse it, now he’d provoked Zuko into _having Teiji fetched from the nursery_ , just to prove to that never-should-have-been-made-admiral that the baby wouldn’t start screaming at the mere sight of his scarred face! (And to prove that at least _somebody_ loved and wanted him; that part went unsaid, but Iroh still heard it loud and clear.) Iroh wanted to tell Zuko to shut the hells up and keep Teiji safe below, but didn’t dare do so and humiliate his nephew in front of both Zhao and the crew. But he had no idea what Zhao would do when he saw Teiji’s mismatched eyes…

Anzu brought Teiji up on deck and handed him over to Zuko, looking warily at Zhao the whole time. Zuko made a point of talking to Teiji like he was a miniature adult, instead of the daddy-to-baby cooing that they’d all heard him do in unguarded moments, but he didn’t change the way he held or looked at Teiji, which was tenderly and with obvious affection. And the toddler responded to his fatherly love with joyous babbling and baby hugs; Iroh thought they made an adorable family portrait.

Zuko hadn’t said anything to Zhao about Teiji’s mismatched eyes before he was brought on deck, and Anzu had handed the baby straight to his adoptive father without letting Zhao take a good look at him. But Zhao, after staring at the duo in incredulous silence for a few moments, almost visibly decided that he had to mock Zuko for _something_ , just to make his bid for dominance again. He gave a derisive bark of laughter, and said, "Do you plan to capture the Avatar with _cuteness_? I—whah?" as he suddenly peered closer, staring right at Teiji’s face while Iroh’s heart stuttered a beat. Teiji had twisted around in his father’s grip to see who was laughing, giving Zhao a look at his eyes…

Zuko instantly spun about to remove Teiji from within arm’s reach of Zhao, but that just let Teiji peer curiously at the stranger from over Zuko’s shoulder, giving the officer yet another look at his mismatched eyes. Zhao gave a slow, not-at-all-nice smile of realization as he said, "A witch-blood child! That’s a rare prize indeed."

‘Teiji is **_not_** a witch-child, and he is _not_ a prize or trophy for anyone," Zuko growled as he handed his son back to Anzu and gestured urgently for him to be taken off deck. Anzu hurried back to the nursery, with Li Mein holding the nearest hatch open for him and Jee silently stepping sideways to block the departing pair from Zhao’s view.

"Heh; growing up so sheltered in the palace, you probably don’t know what it signifies when someone has one blue eye… Or maybe you do!" Zhao said with a speculative sidelong look at Iroh. Curse it, Zhao had probably heard the story of how Iroh had journeyed to the Spirit World to bring back his son, and thought that Iroh had been advising his nephew for the last few years on spirit-related matters—as if Zuko would even have listened to him until very recently!

Li Mein was just closing the hatch behind Anzu when Zhao declared, "So that’s your secret weapon against the Avatar, eh? Going to train the brat to alert you whenever he sees spirit activity, or senses the presence of the Avatar in disguise? Bring him back up here!" he ordered, sidestepping Jee to view and point right at Li Mein. "I’ll take that--"

- _FWOOOSH_ -

And Zhao _yelped_ and yanked his hand back before it could be caught in the blazing fire-shield, taller and broader than any man, that Zuko had just erected between Zhao and the closed hatch.

The fire-shield cloaked around Zuko’s form as he stepped in front of it, giving him the appearance of the sort of fire-demon that Earth Kingdom people often accused them of being, as he got right in Zhao’s face. " _You’re not taking him anywhere_ ," he hissed. "Understand this, Zhao; the only reason you’re _alive_ to receive that undeserved promotion is because _I let you live_ the last time we met. But if you so much as touch a hair on Teiji’s head, if I think you’re _any_ threat to him at all, _I will **kill** you_. And throw your ashes overboard!"

Zhao had snatched his hand back in surprise, but he refused to give even one inch in the face of Zuko’s rage. He jeered back, "Oh, very impressive. But we both know those are empty threats; you don’t have the guts to back them up."

"Oh, really? Li Mein!" Iroh called out almost cheerfully. "Kindly tell the admiral the total number of men the prince has killed in just the past month."

Agni shine on him, the private caught on just as quickly as he’d hoped. "Fourteen that I know of, sir," Li Mein replied matter-of-factly. "There might be more, though; I didn’t count all the bodies that last time." Which was the truth; Li Mein had been busy helping Taozu try to save poor Hūn’s life, while everyone else had been clearing the river steamer’s deck of all the pirates Zuko had slaughtered while saving Teiji.

Zhao stared wide-eyed at Li Mein, then at Zuko—who showed all his teeth in a positively savage grin while Iroh said calmly, "Times have changed, Zhao." Then he added, while apparently examining his fingernails, "And of course, Prince Zuko is not the only one who would react badly if little Teiji was removed from our tender care." He turned his hand over with fingers spread, and wickedly curved, nine-inch talons of fire sprang from each fingertip.

Still wide-eyed, Zhao backed slowly away.

But he recovered his bravado moments later, and sneered, "As if I’d want some snot-nosed, diaper-shitting brat aboard any vessel in _my_ fleet! Keep your little house-monkey; I’ll have captured the Avatar long before he’s grown enough to be of any use to you!"

Zhao turned to go back to his ship, delivering his parting shot as he stepped onto the gangplank between the vessels: "In the meantime, if you were planning to go to Yu Dao next, your plans have changed. I’ve already decreed that no ships are allowed in or out of this area until after IIIEEEEE!" as he abruptly vanished from view.

Shocked, everyone rushed for the rails as they heard the _–clang_ \- of theboarding ramp, dangling by one end, hit the side of the other ship and the – _splash_ \- of a body hitting the water far below. Iroh leaned out over the railing and looked down just in time to see Zhao thrash and splutter his way to the surface.

"Oh no! I am so sorry, sirs; I forgot to put in the pins securing their ramp to our ship!" Tadao cried out, wringing his hands in distress—a little too theatrically, Iroh thought to himself while hiding a smile. His nephew’s entire body was shaking with suppressed laughter, at the sight of Zhao flailing about in the water far below them.

"What?! No you didn’t; I saw you put them in myself, before I declared it safe to cross over!" one of Zhao’s lieutenants said in outrage.

The other lieutenant was even more accusing. "We’ve been aboard for nearly fifteen minutes now, with wave action affecting both our ships. I find it hard to believe that the boarding ramp stayed in place all this time without being secured, and came away _just_ as Comm—that is, Admiral Zhao was crossing…"

"Coincidences do happen, gentlemen," Iroh pointed out, his tone mild. "There seemed to be many such coincidences in Zhao’s official report on the events at Crescent Island…"

The message was clear: _call our crewman on his lie, and we’ll call your boss on **his** lies_. The lieutenants traded glances and shut up. Tadao and Cheung used boathooks to grab the gangplank’s dangling end and pull it back over to them, making a big show of securing it in place this time, while Zhao’s ship tossed down a life preserver to haul him back aboard.

Unfortunately, Zhao was determined to have the last word. He refused to cross over to their ship this time, but the sopping-wet admiral shouted across the gap, "If that wasn’t deliberate _sabotage_ , then it was _dereliction of duty_! Either way, the captain of a _real_ naval vessel would have that man up on charges—unless, of course, he didn’t actually care about such things as _duty_ and _honor_!"

Zuko went rigid, while Iroh cursed Zhao under his breath. Any time a crewman had to be harshly punished, no matter what the reason, it was horribly bad for morale. And charges of either sabotage or dereliction of duty merited very harsh punishment indeed! But if Zuko did nothing to Tadao, after those public accusations that he didn’t care about duty and honor… Damn Zhao straight to the coldest depths of the ocean!

Zuko finally growled out, "The crewman will be charged and captain’s mast will be held _in two hours’ time_ ; you have my oath on that! Now, are you vengeful or sadistic enough to just wait there and watch until he is adequately punished?"

"Oh, I have far better things to do with my time," Zhao called out with a dismissive wave and a nasty grin. "Such as capture the Avatar!" Then he gestured for his officers to cross back over and the gangplank to be removed, while adding, "The Yuyan archers that I’ve just taken command over, should be quite useful in achieving my goal..."

Stone-faced, Lieutenant Jee ordered Li Mein and Cheung to escort Tadao to the holding cell, and the crewmen glumly complied. Then Jee handed Zuko the military manual that he’d still been holding, and asked, "Shall I alert the crew as to when Captain’s Mast shall be held, sir?"

"Yes. In two hours, on the foredeck," Zuko said, still glaring at Zhao’s flagship as it slowly pulled away. "And after alerting everyone, come see me and my uncle in my cabin."

Zuko strode off towards the hatch closest to their cabins, but instead of following him immediately, Iroh stayed on deck a little while longer. He frowned at Zhao’s ship as it began changing course, probably turning south to return to Pohuai Stronghold. Iroh was certain that Zhao had made a point of tracking their ship down and coming aboard to show off his new ranking, solely to get his pride back after Iroh had embarrassed him yesterday with that Crescent Island crack. And while Zhao had now cornered Zuko into taking actions that would set at least part of the crew against him, there was also no doubt that overall, the new admiral had come out the worse for this encounter. What would Zhao do to get back at them now?

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

After searching the temple ruins they had chosen for a hiding spot yesterday, a safe place for Appa to rest and recover from the storm that had nearly drowned them all, Aang came back to where his friends were waiting and told Katara, "I couldn't find any ginger root for the tea, but I found a map." He spread out the scroll on the ground and pointed out its features to her, saying, "There's an herbalist institute on the top of that mountain. We could probably find a cure for Sokka there."

  
Katara shook her head in response. "Aang, he's in no condition to travel. Sokka just needs more rest. I'm sure he'll be better by tomorrow," she managed, just before her speech was interrupted by coughing.

Aang stared at her in open dismay. "Not you too!"

  
Katara tried to pass it off as "just a little cough" and claim she was fine, but she couldn’t even get the whole sentence out before coughing again, even harder. Shielding himself from her coughs, Aang reminded her, "That's how Sokka started yesterday. Now look at him – he thinks he's an earthbender!" as he pointed at her clearly delirious brother, tucked into his sleeping bag while Momo eyed him in concern. "A few more hours and you'll be talking nonsense too."

He picked up his glider staff and snapped it open as he declared, "I'm going to find some medicine." But just as he prepared to take off from the edge of the ruins, a brilliant slash of lightning split the sky overhead, followed far too closely by ominous thunder. The sky wasn’t as bad as it had been two days ago in that terrible storm, but… Aang swallowed hard and decided aloud, "Maybe it’s safer if I go on foot."

He shut his glider and leaned it against a wall as he reminded Appa and Momo, "Keep en eye on ‘em, guys." Appa gave a barely-audible rumble in response while Aang kicked up a tailwind to speed up his running to super-fast, and set off towards the northeast.

While Aang was running down the mountainside, he thought for a few moments that he heard a horn blowing somewhere nearby, but he paid it no mind as he focused on getting to the herbalist institute.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Two hours after parting ways with Zhao’s ship, the _Wani_ had nearly reached the first inlet that Zuko had pointed out in his plan to flush out the Avatar. But before they unshipped the river steamer to set the komodo-rhinos and riders ashore, the crew solemnly assembled on the foredeck for Captain’s Mast.

Goro, the crew’s master-at-arms, directed two crewman to set out the podium and two flagstaffs that were normally kept in storage; one pole bearing their national flag, and the other the banner for the Fire Nation Navy. The crew raggedly fell into two groups assembled on either side of the podium, quietly muttering about what they were about to witness as Goro chivvied and herded them into proper ranks. Many opinions were expressed in whispers and hisses, but the general consensus was that Tadao’s impulsive move had been both pretty damn funny, and pretty damn stupid to pull in front of so many witnesses no matter how much Zhao had deserved a dunking. "Which do you think he’s being charged with?" Gen murmured to Anzu. "Dereliction of duty, or sabotage?"

"It had better be dereliction," Anzu muttered back. "They’re both serious charges, but sabotage is a helluva lot worse; _that’s_ a guaranteed court-martial offense. He’d go from here straight to Pohuai for trial, and after the court-martial he’d be sent to either the Boiling Rock or the chopping block."

Just then Lieutenant Jee brought the prisoner out on deck, now freshly shaven and wearing his dress uniform. Tadao looked both resentful that he was at mast for his offense, and already resigned to his fate. After everyone was in place, Jee called the crew to attention and Prince Zuko marched out to the podium, his expression stern as he laid his copy of _Manual of Military Justice and Discipline_ and a few sheets of paper on the lacquered wood. The former general Iroh also came out on deck, but stood several paces behind and to the side of his nephew, making it clear that he would only be observing instead of participating in the proceedings.

The prince cleared his throat, clearly trying to cover up nervousness with a stern expression, and began the proceedings. "Private Tadao, you are suspected of committing the following violation of the codes detailed in the Manual of Military Justice and Discipline: Dereliction of Duty, the failure to obey a lawful order or regulation. Specifically, failure to obey regulations concerning ship-to-ship connection via gangplank; to properly secure the end of the gangplank touching our vessel before signaling that it is safe to cross."

With a completely straight face, Prince Zuko recounted for the assembly what had happened to the gangplank and to Zhao two hours earlier (as if they hadn’t already heard all about it). Then he told Tadao, "You are advised that a captain’s mast is not a trial and that a determination of misconduct on your part is not a conviction by a court. Further, you are advised that the formal rules of evidence used in trials by court-martial do not apply at Captain’s Mast."

The prince continued on, following the procedures as outlined in the military justice manual step-for-step: advising the accused that he was not required to make a statement regarding the offense, and that any statement he made could be used as evidence against him; formally asking if he had been briefed on his rights as outlined in the manual and if he had any questions or concerns about said rights; calling upon the other deck hands who’d been present earlier as witnesses and questioning them. And with each step, everyone’s mood sank even further, even though all the deck hands were thankfully able to say they hadn’t noticed whether or not Tadao had secured the gangplank before the first crossing, being more concerned with their own tasks at the time.

In the two hours between the incident and the mast, some people had expressed hopes that Prince Zuko would treat the hearing as a joke and just dismiss the charges right after they were stated; everyone knew he hated Zhao (and with damn good reason), and some of them had seen him holding back laughter at the sight of the admiral in the drink. But the prince was following the manual, basically word for word, and that meant he was taking the matter seriously and making this a genuine Captain’s Mast, despite how much Zhao had deserved what had happened to him. Curse it, did the Royal Pain really _have_ to take _all_ his duties so damn seriously?

Many of the more experienced crewmen began mentally reviewing the different punishments that could be awarded at captain’s mast: a formal reprimand and permanent mark on the crewman’s record, up to twenty lashes of the whip, confinement on rice and water for up to thirty days, reduction in rank, forfeiture of up to half their pay for two months… Poor Tadao! But hopefully he’d get only one of those punishments, instead of two or more of them together!

After getting all of the witnesses’ statements, Prince Zuko asked Tadao, "Are there any other witnesses you would like to call or any other evidence you would like to present?"

"No, sir," Tadao said miserably.

"Very well then." The prince stood tall and said solemnly, "I impose the following punishment: confinement on rice and water for thirty minutes. You are advised that you have the right to appeal this punishment to the admiral in charge of this theater of operations—which is now Admiral Zhao—and that your appeal must be made within a reasonable time frame, normally five days. Following this hearing, Lieutenant Jee will advise you more fully of your right to appeal. Do you understand?" Tadao slumped where he stood and muttered that he understood, so Prince Zuko declared, "You are dismissed." Then he gestured for Jee to step forward and escort Tadao away again.

With the corner of his mouth twitching, Jee stepped forward to lead Tadao away, while the assembled crew glumly waited for the prince to leave so they could be dismissed as well. But then Teru unexpectedly piped up from within ranks, sounding bewildered: "Did he say thirty _minutes_?"

Not thirty days, but thirty _minutes_ confinement on rice and water? Heads turned back and forth as startled crewmen looked at each other for confirmation that they’d heard it too, and then stared at Prince Zuko, who had been keeping his head down busily tidying up his papers and manual… until he lifted his head and _smirked_ at them all.

At that point, Jee started chuckling while General Iroh burst into booming laughter that shook his entire portly frame. It took another moment or two for what had happened to really sink in, but as it did the crew started roaring with laughter and cheering the prince, while Tadao went so weak-kneed with relief that he staggered for a moment. Then the private began laughing and crying at the same time as he turned back to Prince Zuko, which made his words hard to understand, but everyone still figured out he was saying, "Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Jee tried to put on a serious expression, but he was still chuckling as he asked Tadao, "So I take it you won’t be appealing his decision?"

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Half an hour after he’d been put inside the holding cell, Tadao was let back out, grinning while still eating from the bowl of rice that a laughing Chu Si had personally brought to him during his confinement. "Better watch your step in the future, buddy," Li Mein said to him with a smirk. "I hear that Prince Zuko has already decided on the punishment for the next guy caught messing with Admiral Zhao: twenty lashes—with a yakisoba noodle!"

"Hope you enjoyed your rest and relaxation while the rest of us worked," Jee said, also smirking. "We’ve already put the river steamer in the water, and got the first two komodo-rhinos aboard it. Now get your arse up to the starboard foredeck ladder; the prince is waiting for you!"

Tadao hurried up on deck and over to the chain ladder, which had already been lowered over to the side; down below, Prince Zuko looked up at him expectantly, along with General Iroh, Tetsuko, Gen and Goro. Tadao scrambled down the ladder as fast as he dared, and Gen piloted the river steamer towards the shore while the prince beckoned everyone else to the map he’d spread out and explained his plan to them.

Tadao and Goro would have to ride their komodo-rhino nearly all night to get past the hills and into position to start flushing out the Avatar by dawn, but it wasn’t the first all-nighter either of them had pulled while in service. Tadao glanced inside the carry-sack he’d been handed, and found some travel rations and a bundle of assorted fireworks; none of the expensive stuff that made the gorgeous sky-flowers everyone loved, but lots of smaller rockets that made shrieking whistles, booms and smaller bursts, stuff that his family had set off every Solstice when he was a kid.

"These fireworks will supplement your own firebending, but don’t set them off all at once," Prince Zuko instructed him and Tetsuko. "Spread them out over half an hour, set off at random intervals, and generate plenty of your own fire in between each one. Use low-temperature fireballs that you can keep producing longer, and create a wide sector overhead with your bursts," as he waved his arms overhead to demonstrate for them. "Your team of two will need to make enough fire and noise to be mistaken for a full squadron of soldiers, fighting their way back to the coast!"

Since the prince was looking at Tetsuko just then, he missed seeing Tadao’s grin of joy mixed with sheer irony. He was anything but a quiet guy by nature, and most of his childhood, adolescence and early military career had been filled with people either begging or ordering him to sit down and shut up, and behave with dignity and decorum. Now for the first time in his life, he was being _ordered_ to make a big racket! This was totally worth losing a night’s sleep for!

"Prince Zuko, perhaps a word or two about inadvertent fires?" General Iroh suggested mildly, with a concerned frown.

"I was just getting to that, uncle. Now, we don’t want to actually set the forest on fire; that’s why every bender on this expedition is level 4 or 5, capable of putting out fires as well as creating them. The storms we’ve been encountering lately have wetted down the vegetation, but there’s still a risk of fire. So every fireball you make needs to be short-lived, out before it hits the ground, and you’ll have to track the fireworks too and put their fires out if need be. It’ll be a lot of concentrated bending, after a night of hard riding, but we’re all counting on you to make it work; to flush out the Avatar by spooking him awake and into running, and work together to drive him down this mountain pass," as he pointed it out on the map. "The _Wani_ will be waiting where the pass meets the shore at this harbor, with catapult armed and ready to take him out as soon as he’s within range. Any questions?" he finished, just as the river steamer’s reinforced bottom ground against the sandy beach of the inlet.

All the questions Tadao had thought of had been answered by the prince already. He was about to respond with a heartfelt oath that he’d do his very best for his prince and captain, but in the momentary silence between the prince’s question and his response, they suddenly heard the faint but unmistakable blare of a signal-horn.

Prince Zuko and everyone else aboard the steamer automatically turned to look at General Iroh, the only one among them who had any real experience with horn signals. Iroh cocked his head towards the mountains, listening for a moment before musing aloud, "News from a division of artillery?—No, archers, I’m sure that’s the sequence for archers. Returning to base, mission successful…" Tadao realized that it must be the Yuyan archers, the group that Zhao had been bragging about commandeering earlier; they were downright legendary for their skills with bows and arrows.

The horn signal message continued (Tadao had to admire the messenger’s lung capacity), and then suddenly the retired general seemed to _age_ in front of their eyes, with grief and despair settling over him like a heavy weight rounding his shoulders. He muttered, "And they have one prisoner with them."

One prisoner? One important enough to send the Yuyan after him? _Oh_ , **_no_** …

Tadao whipped around to stare at Prince Zuko. The prince had gone white as a funeral sheet, and perfectly still.

When the signal horns stopped, the silence _screamed_.

Finally, Prince Zuko spoke. "Back to the ship."

The ride back to the _Wani_ was quiet, with no more talk than absolutely necessary, and with no one saying anything to the prince because they just had no idea what to say to him. What could anyone possibly say to make the situation any better? After all the prince had done to find the Avatar and flush him out of hiding, after all he’d been through in the past few years, to lose his only chance to go home to a blowhard like Zhao who’d only been hunting for his own glory! Ashes and soot, this just wasn’t _fair_ …

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The Avatar, captured. And not by Zuko, an event he’d been prepared to deal with, but by Zhao. Which meant that the poor little airbending boy would be back at the capital, chained in the deepest and most inaccessible dungeon, and probably undergoing the horrific "process" that Sozin and Azulon had devised long ago to ensure the Avatar would never threaten their empire, long before Iroh could find a way to break him out.

And poor Zuko, his last hope of returning home and earning his cursed father’s favor crushed at last… Iroh had long since wanted him to give up the search, but not for this reason! Even if Iroh thought he could hop aboard a merchant vessel and return home to attempt a rescue, since _he_ had never been banished, he would not leave his nephew now; not even for the Avatar’s sake. Thanks to his damnable brother, Zuko equated ‘failure’ with ‘unlovable’, and leaving him now, after he’d failed so often while Zhao had succeeded, would only reinforce that horrible idea. No, Iroh would have to stay close to his nephew now more than ever, to give him and little Teiji all the support they would need.

Perhaps, after Zuko finally accepted the fact that his father would never take him back and stopped grieving, Iroh would be able to encourage him to actually turn against Ozai and the war, and help the Order of the White Lotus restore balance to the world even without the Avatar. That might be doable… but how would they actually end the war and restore the balance, without the aid of the only being that the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes would trust?

Iroh was drawn from his grim musings by the clang of metal against metal as the end of a descending chain ladder struck the railing; they’d returned to the ship, and it was time to climb back aboard before they used the winch to haul the river steamer back up the ramp inside the _Wani_. Zuko climbed the ladder in silence, with Iroh right behind him; he noted worriedly that the lad had still said almost nothing since they’d heard the horn message.

When they reached the deck of the Wani, they were greeted by a worried Lieutenant Jee, who wanted to know what had gone wrong with the mission; he’d noticed that they’d returned with everyone, instead of setting two komodo-rhinos and their riders ashore. Finally, Zuko spoke again: "There’s been a change of plans. The men are to come back aboard, but don’t bring the river steamer back in; I’ll be taking it out solo. In fifteen minutes; I just have some things to do first."

"Prince Zuko, what do you have in mind?" Iroh asked worriedly, but his nephew ignored him while striding away. Iroh followed him to their cabins, but Zuko ignored the hurried invitation to tea, went inside his cabin and firmly shut the door in his uncle’s face. He reemerged just a few minutes later, with a hastily-wrapped bundle in his arms, and once more ignored his uncle’s queries to head down to the nursery.

Joben was on Teiji-minding watch at that hour of the afternoon; Zuko shooed the old man out of the nursery and firmly closed the door with him and Teiji inside. Without any shame whatsoever, Iroh pressed his ear up against the door and listened as hard as he could, while shushing Joben’s half-formed question with an impatient wave of his hand. He could hear Teiji’s happy high-pitched babbling, but Zuko’s voice was low-pitched and quiet, too quiet for him to make out individual words. Except for one moment, a few words spoken in emphasis: ‘…Always love you, Teiji. Forever, and evermore.’

Footsteps drew near the door, and Iroh hurriedly straightened up just as Zuko opened it. While gesturing for Joben to return inside, Zuko gave him a raised eyebrow and slight frown, but asked no questions of him. Instead, his nephew said, "Uncle, I need you to put Teiji to bed in your cabin tonight. I won’t be back until… until very late, long after his bedtime."

"Nephew, what are you going to do?!"

His bundle tucked in the crook of an elbow, Zuko started up the nearest ladder to the deck. "What I have to do, Uncle." His voice was as grim as death. "No more questions."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Zuko privately swore he could still _feel_ the worried and anxious stares of his uncle and his crew resting on him, long after he was out of range of their eyes. But not out of range of their new telescope, which was probably trained on him right at that moment. Who was watching him, though? An image flickered across his mind of Jee and Uncle Iroh tussling and shoving at each other while arguing over who got to use the telescope, and he would have snickered at the thought, if he could actually find humor in anything at the moment.

He ran the river steamer up onto the shore, and led both komodo-rhinos off the ship and into the forest. He soon found a source of fresh water, a small stream that ran down to the shore, and paused there to hobble one komodo-rhino before mounting the other. There was plenty of vegetation around the stream; if he didn’t come back and no one came ashore after him, the spare rhino wouldn’t die of either hunger or thirst.

The rhino he chose to ride was his uncle’s favorite instead of his, but Flower-Petal was nearly as sure-footed on rough terrain. And while she wasn’t as fast as his Thunderstrike, she was fast enough to get him to Pouhai Stronghold well before nightfall. More than enough time for what he had in mind, since he couldn’t put his desperate plan into effect until long after dusk had shrouded the citadel. And he’d have to stop and hobble this rhino too, to leave her behind after he changed into his black garb and mask…

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

_After a daring infiltration of the supposedly impenetrable stronghold, an epic prisoner breakout, and a final desperate ploy for escape that was pulled right in front of Admiral Zhao and –almost- succeeded:_

:

Zuko woke up to an aching head, wondering what had just happened. The last thing he could recall was walking backwards with the Avatar out of the stronghold, almost making it to the crossroads—and then a whistling sound had registered just an instant before his world had gone black.

His eyes fluttered open, and just as he figured out that he’d been hit by one of the Yuyan archers’ arrows—was he dead? Was this the Spirit World?—no, his head hurt too much for him to be dead—he heard someone talking. "You know what the worst part about being born over one hundred years ago is?"

He blinked until the talking figure came into focus; the Avatar, perched on a tree branch several feet above him and staring out into the forest. Or perhaps into his memories, as the boy continued on, "I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. I used to always visit my friend Kuzon; we used to get in and out of so much trouble together." A smile flickered onto the airbender’s face. "He was one of the best friends I ever had… And he was from the Fire Nation, just like you."

The Avatar stopped staring at the forest and looked down at Zuko, his eyes solemn and sad, almost forlorn. "Katara told me that you’re taking care of an Earth Kingdom baby, so I know you’re not really evil, so matter what Sokka says. If we knew each other a hundred years ago, do you think we could have been friends too?"

Zuko’s mask was off, probably knocked off by the impact of that arrow. The Avatar _knew_ who he was and the real reason why he’d done everything he did, but had still saved him from being captured by Zhao. He _knew_ , and… and he was asking about them being _friends_?

For just a moment, Zuko wondered… and then he—

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Colonel Shinu was coldly furious as he read the casualty reports from last night’s fiasco. Two men dead after falling from great heights, and thirty-one more injured: nine with an assortment of broken bones, four with bad sprains, five with concussions ranging from mild to severe, six with sword-cuts, and five more with burns; not burned by the Avatar or that Blue Spirit character, but by their own people in the rampant confusion of battle.

And the most galling matter was, five men on the injured list hadn’t been hurt in the initial escape and fighting, but in the forest later on, due to that damn Zhao’s insistence on sending troops to chase an airbender into the deep woods in the middle of a moonless night! Everyone without a fireball or lantern in their hands had been operating blind out there. And with nerves already worn to shreds by the battle within the walls, some troops had made costly mistakes that their bodies, or their comrades in arms, would be paying for a painfully long while.

The colonel tried to look on the bright side of the fiasco. If there was an enlisted man within the walls who _hadn’t_ been at least bruised last night, Shinu hadn’t met him yet, but the death toll was amazingly low for such a battle; it was as if both the Avatar and that Blue Spirit character had been trying hard to _not_ kill anyone while escaping. The two letters he’d be writing to the deceased’s next of kin were still two too many, but given all the destruction the Avatar had wreaked on the Fire Temple on Crescent Island, it could definitely have been worse.

And when Zhao had tried to put all the blame for the escape on Shinu’s leadership, Shinu had been able to turn it right around on him, pointing out all the security lapses that had been caused by Zhao’s arrogant insistence on making nearly all the troops stationed at Pohuai assemble in the courtyard just to hear his ‘inspiring’ speech. He’d taken a little vindictive glee in the way Zhao’s face had turned almost purple with humiliated rage.

Zhao had been so furious, he’d stormed right out of the stronghold without taking the Yuyan archers with him. Probably because he didn’t want the archers telling the crew of his ship just how badly their admiral had botched things, after they’d delivered the Avatar to him practically gift-wrapped! With luck, Shinu and the Yuyan would never have to deal with either Zhao or the Avatar again, which was just fine with everyone in the stronghold.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

By noontime, with still no sign of Prince Zuko returning, tensions on board the _Wani_ were running high with anxiety.

At first light of dawn, Jee had ordered the ship brought in as close to that rocky shore as they dared go, then sent out the lifeboats with twelve men aboard, to search the nearby woods for their prince. The searching crewmen had found one of the komodo-rhinos but not the other, and tracks that showed the other one had gone south-by-southeast… towards Pohuai Stronghold and the colony beyond.

What had Prince Zuko done?! Speculation ran rampant among the crew:

Had he ridden the rhino straight to the top of the mountain in that direction, to face one final sunrise at its peak before committing seppuku, like in the famous play ‘Riding The White Dragon’?

Had he gone to challenge Admiral Zhao to another Agni Kai?

Had he decided to drown his sorrows in sake and women-for-hire back in Pohuai City, not caring whether he got arrested for violating his terms of banishment or not?

Jee had scoffed loudly at the first and third suggestions, suggesting that Gen had seen the Ember Island Players once too often and Kunio should get his mind out of the gutter, but for the second idea he could only give Anzu an uncertain and unhappy shrug in response.

General Iroh was worried too. He’d polled the entire crew to find out if anyone aboard knew _anybody_ in Pohuai Stronghold, regardless of rank. When he got to the galley, Chu Si volunteered that he knew one of the cooks stationed there; they’d served together on a combined military base a dozen years ago, and occasionally kept in touch to trade gossip, recipes and such.

Iroh promptly yanked the cook into his quarters, and they emerged twenty minutes later with a scroll that was taken straight to their hawksman and slipped into a tube for transport. Chu Si’s message to his fellow cook Koman gave cordial greetings, asked if anything interesting had happened at Pohuai lately, and stated that General Iroh had given him special permission to use a messenger hawk; the general had a sudden desire for Gomai Dumplings, but Chu Si hadn’t made them in years and had forgotten the recipe. Did Koman happen to have the recipe handy?

Two hours later the hawk came flying back to the _Wani_ with Komen’s reply, stating first that they’d had a lot of excitement at Pohuai in the last few days. Komen was sure Chu Si already knew about his general’s visit with Colonel Shinu, but shortly afterwards Admiral Zhao had shown up, commandeering the Yu Yan archers and setting them to capture the Avatar! And then only hours after the archers had captured him, the Avatar had escaped last night with the help of—either somebody, or something; Komen honestly wasn’t sure if the based had been raided by a fantastically skilled swordsman wearing a Blue Spirit mask, or the actual Blue Spirit himself, summoned from the Spirit World by the Avatar to break him out. Anyway, to make Gomai dumplings, start with two cups of finely chopped komodo-rhino sausage and two spoonfuls of honey…

After reading the message over Chu Si’s shoulder, General Iroh abruptly swore the cook to silence about the message’s exact contents, cut the paper in two and sent Chu Si to the galley with the recipe—it had actually been a long time since he’d had Gomai Dumplings—while he tucked the other half up his sleeve. He told Jee and everyone else hovering anxiously nearby that the Avatar had indeed been captured but had immediately escaped, and that there had been no mention at all of Prince Zuko.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

It took until past noon for Zuko to sneak back to where he’d left his uncle’s favorite komodo-rhino, ride Flower Petal back to where he’d left the spare rhino, and lead them both back to the inlet where he’d left the steamer. By that time the severe ache in his head had subsided enough for him to notice all the other aches and pains he’d accumulated after last night’s work, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and just sleep until dinnertime—after checking to see how Teiji was doing; he hoped his son hadn’t had any nightmares last night. He should have cautioned his uncle that Teiji had nightmares when he slept alone at night, but yesterday he’d been too preoccupied…

He set course back to the ship, and one of the lookouts spotted him when the river steamer was still several hundred yards away. That was to be expected; he wasn’t trying to be stealthy at all, not on a river steamer in broad daylight. But what was unexpected was the crew’s reaction to his approach: he was too far away and the steamer was making too much noise for him to hear them, but moments after the lookout pointed in his direction, what looked like nearly half the crew was lining the rails and waving to him!

He’d seen the same thing a few weeks ago, when he’d come back to the ship after rescuing Uncle Iroh from the earthbenders. But this time, Uncle Iroh was safely aboard… Were they actually waving and cheering _just for him_?!

He angled alongside the ship and slowed to a halt near the forward port-side anchor, and almost before he’d come alongside the chain ladder was dropped and Cheung was scrambling down it, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome back, your highness! Good to see you’re okay, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir! Would you like me to take over getting the steamer and the komodo-rhinos back aboard, sir?" Stunned by the way Cheung was acting—this was the same man who’d drawn that horrible caricature of him with the koala-sheep?!-- Zuko could only nod mutely in response, and take the ladder when it was handed over to him.

When he climbed up to the deck, his uncle was waiting there with Lieutenant Jee, who cut the snappiest salute he’d ever seen while saying, "Welcome back, your highness! There is news of the Avatar, sir; we’ve received a report stating that he has escaped from Pohuai Stronghold, right out from under Admiral Zhao’s nose! With aid from an ally who has not yet been named, sir."

"That’s good," Zuko said, very sincerely; he was beyond relieved that he’d gotten away without being identified by his own country’s forces. "The Avatar won’t linger in this area after escaping, so after the steamer is aboard, weigh anchor and set a course for north, following the coast."

"Yes, sir!" as Jee saluted him again before turning and heading for the bridge.

That left him alone with Uncle, who wasn’t trying at all to hide the relief in his expression; Zuko felt a little guilty about making his uncle worry over him. But rather than apologize, which would have likely led his uncle to request an explanation that he couldn’t give, he asked, "How was Teiji last night and this morning?"

"Extremely fussy, and loudly missing his father," his uncle very pointedly informed him. "But once he went to the nursery, he seemed to settle down with the routine."

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

Zuko was looking so tired—and so dazed, as if he’d just received some huge shock or surprise that he hadn’t finished processing yet—that Iroh half expected him to announce that he was going to his cabin, his old familiar refuge, and wanted to be left alone until dinnertime. But instead he went straight to the nursery to see his son, apparently needing to see for himself that Teiji was okay now.

As soon as Teiji saw his adoptive father, he squealed and made a beeline straight for Zuko’s legs, and grabbed on with all his toddler strength while shouting, "Dada dada dadadada!"

"Yes, Daddy’s here," Zuko said with a tired chuckle as he bent down and stroked Teiji’s baby-fine hair. "I’m sorry I left you alone all night, but…" Instead of finishing that sentence, he asked Botan on duty, "Has he had his nap yet?"

"Not yet, sir; that would normally be in another hour-and-a-half. But the general said he slept poorly last night, so if you took him to your cabin he might nap now," Botan shrewdly assessed.

Without further ado, Zuko picked up Teiji and took him back to his cabin. Iroh followed, ostensibly yawning widely and announcing that he would be napping as well, as Teiji’s fussiness had interfered with his own sleep the night before. But as soon as he’d closed the cabin door behind himself, Iroh grabbed the little tin cup he kept on a shelf, pressed it against the wall between his and Zuko’s cabin and listened with all his might. Iroh knew without asking that Zuko had no intention of telling anyone what he’d done last night, but he also knew that sometimes parents use their very young children as sounding boards, to get things off their chests without worrying about being judged for what they’re saying.

Only a few months into their journey, Iroh had discovered quite by accident that one particular spot on the wall between their cabins was thinner than the rest, and voices on the other side could be heard if one listened carefully enough. With the cup acting as a conduit, Iroh overheard Zuko getting both Teiji and himself ready for naptime… and after the barely-discernible rustling indicated they were both in bed, he heard Zuko heave a great sigh before saying, "It almost worked, Teiji…"

"I was able to sneak all the way inside to where they’d imprisoned the Avatar, free him and get halfway out again before we were discovered. That ended up being the hardest fight of my life, but I managed to get the Avatar clear outside the gates of the stronghold. But then I got hit by something—probably a Yuyan arrow, I guess—and it knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I was waking up under a tree deep in the forest, and the Avatar was just sitting nearby and asking me if we could have been friends in another life."

Iroh thought his heart actually stuttered a beat when he heard that. The Avatar, asking to be friends with his nephew—while Zuko was still chasing him! Iroh didn’t know if that meant the airbender was clairvoyant, receiving a vision of the future that Iroh still could only hope would come to pass, or just plain crazy.

Unaware of his uncle’s eavesdropping, Zuko continued, "I… He saved me from being captured by Zhao. My mask was off, he _knew_ who I was and what I was really there for, and he’d still saved me. I couldn’t try to capture him right then; it wouldn’t be honorable, after he’d… shown me such mercy. So I just shooed him off with a fireball, to go back to his friends; he’d said something while we were escaping about them needing frogs for some weird reason. So I’m sorry, but I didn’t capture him last night after all. But I will, Teiji; I promise you that. I promise you that someday, I’ll take you home to the palace, and show you my mother’s garden. We’ll make that bush a secret shrine to your mother as well as mine… and I’ll show you how to make friends with the turtle-ducks. You’ll (yawwwn) you’ll really like turtle-ducks, Teiji; they’re so small, and cute…"

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 _Two days later, in the Fire Nation capital_ …

Four times each day, the Fire Lord’s personal secretary took messages to the hawk-tower in the eastern wing of the palace, and picked up any black-ribboned scrolls that had arrived recently. Being wary of birds ever since he’d been attacked by one as a child, he took pains to avoid the messenger hawks themselves, but that never bothered the hawksmen; they accepted and left messages in baskets next to the door, a good distance away from the windows and perches.

Today he picked up another basket of scrolls on his third visit of the day, and once he was back in his office he sorted through the stack by the seals placed on each scroll. Scrolls from other members of the royal family were always left sealed, to be opened by the Fire Lord himself. But everything else was read by his secretary first, to determine how urgently they needed to be responded to or even if they were actually worth the Fire Lord’s attention.

This latest batch had no royal seals, which was not surprising; Prince Zuko generally wrote only twice a month, and the Fire Lord’s brother only sent the traditional Solstice messages. Two messages from province governors, three from colony governors, two from generals currently operating in the Earth Kingdom, and one from—the secretary double-checked the seal’s wax impression, and snorted to himself; the new Admiral Zhao certainly hadn’t wasted any time getting the three-tongued flame of admiral ranking added to his personal seal.

The secretary opened Zhao’s scroll first, figuring it would be simply a personal letter of gratitude for his promotion in rank. Which it was, for the first half of the letter, but then… The secretary’s eyes went wide as saucers as he read:

_Unfortunately, I feel it ultimately necessary to the welfare of the nation and your royal legacy, to include in this letter of gratitude some very grim tidings. I have recently encountered the banished Prince Zuko, and discovered that he has been extremely irresponsible and causing a scandal in the colonies he visits. In his youthful foolishness, he bred a bastard child on an Earth Kingdom peasant woman, and after her death he took the baby aboard ship with him._

_He has even shown this offspring off at colonies such as Pohuai, which is where I most recently encountered him. He claims to be merely adopting a foundling as his ward until the boy is old enough to survive on his own, but I saw with my own eyes how he treats the child, as one from his loins; there can be no doubt as to the babe’s origins. There is also little doubt that if Prince Zuko ever returns to Fire Nation soil, he will attempt to overturn centuries of honorable tradition and make that half-breed bastard his heir to the royal throne. I felt it necessary to advise you of these recent events and intentions, so that you may deal with the situation as your Majesty sees fit, before the scandal touches our nation’s sacred shores._

_With utmost sincerity,_

_Admiral Zhao Gama_

Ten minutes later, the letter was in the Fire Lord’s office, and smoking with curling black edges where it was being gripped by royal hands. Fire Lord Ozai turned his outraged stare from the letter to his secretary as he demanded, "Why am I only hearing about this now?! Has the boy mentioned _anything_ about a baby in those letters he keeps sending me?"

"I-I wouldn’t know, sire," the secretary stammered out. "Scrolls from members of the royal family are always delivered to you still sealed!"

He could _see_ it in the Fire Lord’s eyes; for just one moment, Ozai was actually _regretting_ all the times he’d had those sealed scrolls delivered to his audience chamber, so he could show his contempt for the prince by burning them unread. But the secretary was not allowed to savor the moment; the Fire Lord barked at him, "Get me the spymaster, _now_!"

‘Now’ took over half an hour, since the spymaster had been out of the palace at the moment and the secretary had to send runners to track him down and bring him back. By that time Ozai had left his office for his audience chamber, for a meeting with some noble petitioners. But as soon as the spymaster made a discreet appearance in the back of the audience chamber, the Fire Lord peremptorily denied the petitioners’ request and ordered them out of the palace, and then beckoned the spymaster over. He demanded, "Tell me everything you know about Prince Zuko taking a baby aboard his ship!"

A master of spies has to be a supremely smooth operator, never getting flustered or showing surprise unless it’s for calculated effect. But standing in his traditional post off to one side of the chamber, the secretary was sure he could see flickers of both terror and sheer embarrassment in the spymaster’s eyes before the man said with a bow, "Your majesty, only today have I begun to hear any wild rumors about that subject, reportedly from gossip down at the docks; I was journeying down there to ascertain more details and confirm the rumor’s origin when I was summoned back here."

"What about your spy aboard the ship?" Ozai demanded, brandishing the scroll from Zhao like a paper club. "I have here a message saying there are even _witnesses in Pohuai_ who’ve seen the weakling with a brat in his arms; does your man dare to say _nothing_ about such a disgrace?!"

"The latest shipment of mail from the _Wani_ arrived at the fleet’s mail center nine days ago and was disseminated to the crew’s home islands, and the rumor of a baby aboard seems to have begun with the letter from at least one of the crewmen. But I received no coded letter from my agent Shoda in that shipment. I do not yet know whether that means my agent has been compromised."

Ozai’s curses scorched the already smoky air in the chamber. Then he pointed to the secretary and ordered, "Send a hawk-message to that banished brat! Tell him that he’s making a mockery of both the royal family _and_ naval tradition by having a baby aboard! Unless he gets that bastard spawn off his ship _within a day_ of receiving the message, he’s no son of mine and can never return to Fire Nation soil, Avatar or not!"

Then he pointed to the spymaster. "And _you_ will find out what orphanage or family he leaves that baby with, and ensure something _fatal_ happens to it immediately! Make it look like an accident, or some childhood disease; nothing that can be traced back here!"

Both the secretary and the spymaster bowed to their sovereign, and hurried to do his bidding.

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

The baskets of scrolls for sending by messenger hawk were always left by the secretary just inside the door to the hawk-tower. And if a hawksman was distracted by, say, someone throwing a stone into one of the high windows just after a basket was dropped off, then it would take only the work of a moment to slip inside the door that had been prevented from latching, swap out the single scroll in the basket with another one bearing the same royal seal and destination, quickly remove the bit of wood that had kept the door from latching and leave again, all unnoticed.

Azula grinned to herself as she tucked the scroll inside her sleeve while strolling away, confident that her personal maid and stone-thrower had likewise escaped unnoticed. She’d had her sire’s seal secretly forged for her use and had been practicing the secretary’s style of calligraphy for over a year now, certain that both would come in handy someday. And today had definitely been ‘someday’; the conversation she’d eavesdropped on in the Fire Lord’s audience chamber had given her the perfect opportunity to accomplish one of her many goals in life.

So long as her dear, dumb brother Zu-Zu continued to chase the Avatar, there remained an ever-so-slight chance that he would actually _capture_ the airbender child and return home, to reclaim his honor and his position as heir to the throne. That was a claim that Azula had no intention of giving up, after nearly three years of enjoying her increased position. So the scroll she’d sent would take care of that problem. And given that it was written in the secretary’s hand, and sent when the Fire Lord had ordered the secretary to send a message, if anything went wrong the blame would fall solely on the secretary instead of her. Humming merrily, Azula headed off to receive a well-deserved royal hair combing.

 _To be continued_...

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: the Pohuai lullaby has been adapted from the lullaby/love song “Evermore”, sung by Alison Krauss on the “Dog Train” album by Sandra Boynton. The original version is beautiful in its own right, and can be heard here: http://www.sandraboynton.com/sboynton.com.data/Components/Music/9%20Evermore.mp3 I just adapted a few lines to fit the world of ATLA and this story.
> 
> This is one of those chapters in which what was supposed to be a simple little scene, mutated into a monster which then grabbed the bit in its teeth, and yanked the reins away from me to run for nearly 20 pages. Developing another plot point as it did, one that’s actually going to solve a problem I’d been wondering how to handle when this story hits 3rd-season situations! 
> 
> So after realizing that this chapter alone threatened to be over seventy-five pages long before I’d be finished with it (as it is, this is over 50 pages in MS Word!), instead of putting that scene/sequence of scenes on the chopping block, I left out other scenes that were essentially just restating what we saw on screen during “The Blue Spirit.” Sorry to disappoint you readers who were expecting big fight scenes in this chapter, but here’s a link to a pretty good Youtube fan video that includes the highlights of that Great Escape, to make it up to you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uc9qz4FITw


	9. Determined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: Yes, this is a real and entirely new chapter! Just as I promised in the old author’s note that was a placeholder for chapter 9, this story will continue! My personal life is still a hot bleeding mess, and as a result I’m still busier than the proverbial one-armed paperhanger, but at least I managed to find time to finish this chapter, and the next one is thoroughly outlined with a couple of scenes written already. I can’t promise regular monthly updates again, not yet, but I will be updating all my ATLA stories in rotation once more.  
> Also, check out my FFNet profile ( http://www.fanfiction.net/u/50266/Kimberly-T for people reading this at AO3) to find the links for some lovely fanart for this story! (Yes, the fanart my wonderful readers send to me can inspire me to write faster!)

 

From what Mai could see of it, the Earth Kingdom countryside looked _boring_.

 

Just as the rest of their long trip to Omashu had been boring, so far as she was concerned. Walk aboard a ship, spend days cramped inside a cabin, walk ashore, get into an even more cramped coach, and then ride, ride and ride some more at what had to be the _slowest_ pace it was possible for a pair of dragon-moose to set. At this pace, Mai wondered if they were going to reach their destination any time before the next Solstice.

 

“Mai! Close that curtain, young lady, and I don’t want to have to tell you again!” her mother scolded, looking up from cuddling and playing with Tom-Tom just long enough to berate her again. “In the first place, we do not _gawk_ like peasants, and in the second place, think of what that sun will do to your fair skin! We’re not firebenders, Mai; you could get sunburned—or end up _tanned_ , looking as common as a farm girl!”

 

“Oh, Agni forbid I look like a common farm girl,” Mai said sarcastically as she nonetheless dropped the curtain she’d been holding to one side and let the boring view of the landscape be replaced by the far more boring view of the coach interior.

 

Mai was so incredibly bored she wanted to _scream_ , or _skewer_ something a dozen times with her blades. But she knew better than to do either; screaming would only start her bratty little brother wailing, and pulling out even one blade for sharpening would start her mother shouting instead, about having sharp objects anywhere near the baby.

 

She was left with absolutely nothing to do while they traveled except read scrolls that she had already read a few dozen times since they started traveling. And not even any good scrolls with detailed descriptions of fierce battles; just boring blather about clothes and behavior that her mother thought was appropriate reading material for young ladies. Yesterday out of sheer desperation she’d grabbed and started reading a scroll from the stack that her father kept reviewing while they traveled, but those weren’t any better; just a bunch of facts and figures about the recently conquered city of Omashu, except for the scroll that outlined what Fire Lord Ozai expected his newly appointed governor to do with the Fire Nation’s newest colony.

 

That scroll made it plain that quarterly reports were expected on colony production, annual reviews would be conducted by inspectors from the home islands, and governorship appointments typically lasted for eight years at a time. Which meant that she was sentenced to stay with her family in Omashu for the next eight years or until she got married off to some other nobleman, whichever came first. Mai hated her life.

 

There was only one possible bright spot to this whole ordeal; now that she was outside the Fire Nation borders, there was a slim chance that Mai could see Zuko again. He couldn’t set foot on Fire Nation soil without being sentenced to death on the spot, but he could visit the colonies. Of course, he’d have to have a valid reason for visiting Omashu, like a sighting of the Avatar there or nearby, but Mai didn’t have a problem with that. If the Avatar came through and started wreaking havoc on the colony in vengeance for the city having been conquered or whatever, well, at least it wouldn’t be boring.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

 _Thousands of miles from Omashu, in Shu Jing province of the Fire Nation_ :

 

When Lord Piandao gave the nod, his butler Fat rang the bell for assembly in the village square, while the lieutenant and one of the two corporals who had arrived that morning stood by.

 

The drills Piandao had ordered conducted on a regular basis paid off; within fifteen minutes they had over a hundred villagers gathered in the square, curious to find out why they had been summoned. And at the same time, the second corporal that had arrived with the lieutenant returned to the square, with the local Fire cleric and the Chao family in tow. At the sight of the military men and the white armbands they were wearing, several villagers gave quietly resigned sighs; they knew what was coming, since it had happened so many times before.

 

Once the military men and the Chao family were in place, Piandao announced, “We gather here today to pay our respects to one of the fallen, one who gave his life for the Fire Nation.” And then he stepped aside with a nod, to let the lieutenant take over; a callow youth who couldn’t be older than twenty summers, but the resigned set to his features and the practiced ease with which he spoke and performed the ritual said that he too had done this many times before.

 

A small crate containing the ashes of Hūn was handed over to his family, with another crate containing his few personal effects, while the captain read from a scroll just where and when Hūn had died. The Fire Cleric stepped up, gave Agni’s blessing to Hūn’s ashes, and then stepped back while Hūn’s parents blinked back tears, doing their best to remain properly stoic in public. After the Fire Cleric had done his ritual, the villagers started to disperse; they knew the village criers would announce to everyone later when the full memorial service would be, after the family had some time to grieve privately.

 

But then the lieutenant called out, “ _Attention to honors_!” That stopped everyone in their tracks, and they spun around in amazement. Posthumous honors, an award ceremony, for that poor witless boy Hūn?

 

One corporal held up a fancy scroll, while the other held up a small bronze statuette on a red silk cloth. The lieutenant grabbed the scroll, opened it and read aloud, “Posthumous presentation of Fleet Honors. Honoree: Hūn, son of Chao and Mikiko, of Shu Jing province. Rank of Honor bestowed: _Order of the Tiger-Dillo_.

 

“On the sixteenth day of the eleventh month in the year of the Ram, Hūn was on watch aboard a river steamer during a mission on the Gwan River in Senlin Province of the Earth Kingdom. An orphaned child was aboard the steamer, having been rescued by a member of the crew from certain death two days earlier, and was awaiting transport to the ship at the end of the mission; in the meantime, the members of the mission crew were taking turns minding the child. The river steamer had been beached and the engine stopped while most of the team was away on the mission; Hūn and only one other crewman were aboard with the child when a crew of river pirates stormed the boat, with clear intentions to seize it and kill everyone aboard.

 

“Leaving his shipmate inside the cabin to guard the child, Hūn stepped out to do battle with the entire crew of pirates. Despite the overwhelming odds, armed with only a spear and Agni’s own radiant courage, Hūn managed to hold all fourteen pirates off long enough for reinforcements to arrive and save both the vessel and the child aboard. Hūn was mortally wounded in combat and died soon afterwards, but for his honor, compassion for the innocent, bravery and battle prowess he has been posthumously awarded the Order of the Tiger-Dillo.” Then he rolled the scroll back up and handed it over to Hūn’s clearly stunned family, along with the small commemorative tiger-dillo statue that had the characters of Hūn’s name cast into the base.

 

The Order of the Tiger-Dillo! The third-highest honor that could possibly be bestowed on any enlisted man; one that everyone had heard of but nobody present had ever witnessed being awarded before (except Piandao, who had one in his study back at the castle, presented to him over thirty years ago after the Battle of Wantai.) And this honor was being posthumously awarded to Hūn, the village idiot?

 

The local tanner, who’d inhaled enough chemical fumes over the years to lose most of his inhibitions among other mental functions, said aloud what many other people were clearly thinking: “Are you sure you have the right Hūn?”

 

“How dare you?!” Piandao snapped at his subject before the lieutenant could say anything. “You doubt that Hūn could ever have been a hero? Do you not recall how often he would help others by pulling stuck carts out of the mud, or broken carts into the carpenter’s shop? Hūn never refused to help when asked! Yes, the poor boy often made mistakes, he was not a quick learner, but it doesn’t take a sharp wit or sharper tongue to make a hero; it takes courage and compassion, and Hūn had those in full measure!”

 

Duly chastened, the tanner bowed and mumbled his apologies to Hūn’s parents, who were now openly weeping with both grief and pride in their son. Piandao dismissed the formal assembly so the villagers could privately express their sympathies (or amazement) to the family, while he thanked the honor guard for their service and courteously offered them refreshments at his castle before they returned to their base.

 

As he led the komodo-rhino procession back to his home, Piandao wondered again about the honors. He knew well who captained the _Wani_ as well as who was on board as an advisor to the captain, and the bestowal of this rare honor seemed too much to be a coincidence. Had the honors ceremony also contained a coded message for him from the Grandmaster of the White Lotus? If it did, Piandao was privately embarrassed to admit that he had no idea what the message could be. He’d have to send another coded message to Iroh, to ask for clarification…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

 _Meanwhile, aboard the_ **_Wani_** :

 

It was already a good day for Prince Zuko, but it was shaping up to be a _really_ good day.

 

His adopted son Teiji had behaved beautifully all morning, eating his breakfast without making a mess and staying in his clothes instead of wriggling out of them as soon as Zuko’s back was turned. During their pre-breakfast playtime/exercise time in the cabin, Teiji had put all the stacking rings on his new toy in the right order on only the second try, clearly proving his intelligence. And as the baby had been riding on his back while Zuko did his daily pushups, the prince would have sworn on a holy scroll that Teiji had been saying “Up-down, up-down!” right along with him; his little boy was increasing his vocabulary almost by the hour!

 

Just after breakfast, they’d received a hawk-message from Colonel Shinu of Pohuai Stronghold, passing along news of another Avatar sighting! The sighting hadn’t been north along the Avatar’s projected course, but backtracking _south_ instead. It didn’t fit the established pattern, but Uncle Iroh had pointed out that being temporarily captured at Pohuai Stronghold last week must have scared the Avatar so much that he’d decided to spend a while on evasive maneuvers, confusing his trail to throw off his trackers, much like he had two months ago before they’d finally found him on Kyoshi Island. So now the ship was steaming south at a rapid clip, due to reach the location of the sighting by noon tomorrow. Everyone’s spirits were high, halfway between hoping and certain that this time they’d capture the Avatar and _keep_ him caught.

 

Teiji had behaved himself at lunchtime, too, except for grabbing a few times at the spoon Zuko had been using to feed him. But all the men in the mess hall had said that was actually a good sign, that Teiji wanted to learn how to feed himself! So Zuko had decided that at dinnertime that night he would hand Teiji the baby-sized spoon that Taro was already busily carving for him, and let his son work on yet another milestone in his development.

 

All the replacements and repairs done at Pohuai were holding well, the engines were running fine, the weather was clear and looked to stay that way for days, and the new telescope they’d bought at Pohuai to replace the one lost in the storm actually saw farther than the old one. The only thing that would make it better would be having the Avatar captured and ready in the holding cell for transport back to the Fire Nation, and Zuko had hopes that he'd be in there before another day had passed. So he was in a good mood indeed right after lunch, as he gave Teiji a final hug before handing him over to Joben in the nursery, so he could go up on deck and get in some long-overdue firebending sparring.

 

He’d been exercising his muscles with nonbending workouts every day, but it seemed like it had been _weeks_ since Zuko had done any serious firebending beyond lighting and meditating with the candles in his cabin. Unless he counted that one fireball he’d tossed at the Avatar to shoo him off instead of recapturing him after the fiasco at Pohuai, but that had been such a small burst that it hardly counted at all.

 

But finally, _finally_ , everything was right for sparring. There were no major projects on the day’s schedule, the weather was perfect, Zhao was many miles away, and the crew was fully cooperating with their captain instead of threatening to mutiny or reveal more hidden earthbenders or whatever. In just a few minutes he’d be trading fireballs and spear-flames with Lieutenant Jee and Corporal Akio while his uncle supervised the match, getting in a good workout and honing his reflexes to razor sharpness before engaging the Avatar in combat tomorrow.

 

He stopped by his cabin just long enough to change into sparring clothes, and did a Ty Lee-style flip through the last hatch onto the deck just because he was in such a great mood. He looked around and realized that he was the first one out and ready, but that was fine; he’d just have more time to warm up before the match.

 

He ran through some easy stretches, then faced the starboard railing as he fell into horse stance and the first form for firebending. He’d send a few blasts out to starboard, alternating and four from each fist before he switched to fire-kicks. He focused, and punched—

 

And instead of a burst of flame the size of his head shooting out towards the horizon, all he got was a tiny puff of flame that dissipated before going less than a meter.

 

… _What_?!

 

He focused and tried again… and the second attempt wasn’t much better, no bigger than the tiny fireball he’d tossed at the Avatar last week.

 

What the hells had happened to his firebending?! He could produce bigger flames than that when he _sneezed_!

 

Maybe he was just out of practice, after going so long without any serious bending. He took a deep breath, focused on the fire inside him, and bent with all his might—

 

And the third attempt was even worse.

 

 _NO_!!!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Lieutenant Jee came out on deck in his sparring gear, to find Prince Zuko already out there and warming up. The prince was facing away from him and out to sea, like any sensible bender would to be sure his fire wouldn’t accidentally burn someone. And the burst of fire from his hands were hardly better than candle-flames; Jee smiled at the sight, remembering how he’d practiced his bending the same way back at home when they had small children underfoot. That was probably how the prince had been practicing in his cabin for the last few weeks, and now it had become such a habit that he was doing it that way even when Teiji was nowhere near. Well, soon enough the match would begin and the prince would be able to really cut loose--

 

Jee’s thoughts were interrupted and the prince jerked his head up when they both heard the screech of a messenger hawk approaching the tower.   The hawksman on duty received the bird up on the bridge, and seconds later Jiro leaned out far over their heads to shout excitedly down to them, “Your Highness! It’s a _black ribbon_!”

 

A scroll wrapped in a black ribbon was an imperial message, either coming straight from the palace or going straight to a royal family member—or both! Everyone knew that Prince Zuko and General Iroh had been waiting for weeks to find out how the Fire Lord would respond to Prince Zuko’s stated intention to adopt little Teiji as his ward. Prince Zuko headed for the ladder to the bridge, but a moment later their hawksman Teru appeared at the hatch far above them, grabbed the ladder sides with his hands still in the hawking gloves, and _slid_ down over forty feet to the main deck with the scroll tucked under his chin.

 

 _Bright Agni Above_! Jee waited until the damn overexcited idiot had reached the deck and handed the scroll to their wide-eyed prince, before grabbing Teru and pulling him to one side to start chewing his ears off. “Private, are we under attack right now? No? Then does every second count in delivering a message when we’re not under attack? No again, right? Then _why the hells_ did you pull such a damnfool stunt that could have ended in you breaking both legs?!”

 

“B-but it’s a message for the prince, from the palace!” Teru protested, his face bright red with embarrassment.

 

“So you thought you’d save him a few seconds in reading the message now—and never mind all the time it might have taken him later to fill out your casualty report? And what would he have to put in the ‘cause of incident’ section, eh? ‘My crewman thought I _wanted_ him to risk his fool neck in just delivering a message’? Ohh, wouldn’t _that_ make the prince look good to the rest of the fleet…”

 

“Sorry, sir. I won’t do it again, I swear,” Teru mumbled, finally getting it.

 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Jee warned him, before turning to where Prince Zuko was reading the scroll—

 

Just before he dropped it, his face gone slack with shock.

 

The scroll fluttered out of his hands and down to the deck, but just before it actually touched the metal plates the prince snapped out of his shock enough to swoop down and grab it, clutching it to his chest. “The match is cancelled,” was all he said tersely as Jee approached him, before running for the nearest hatch and disappearing inside.

 

After a few moments of staring after him, Jee whipped around to confront Teru again. “You will return to your post and you will _keep your mouth shut_ about this, understand?!” And without waiting for a response he went straight for the ladder to the bridge, to give the same instructions to Jiro and anyone else who was up there right now. No one else was to know about the prince having received a black-ribboned scroll until the prince himself decided to talk about it.

 

...No one, that is, except for one other man...

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Some time later, Zuko came back to himself to realize that he was in the nursery, Teiji was squirming in his grip--he was holding on too tight, he should know better--and Joben was saying for what was probably not the first time, "Your highness, what has happened?"

 

"Nothing has happened! Everything's fine!" he snapped, before bowing his head to inhale one last whiff of Teiji's baby scent before setting him down again. Then he left the nursery, ignoring Joben's clearly unconvinced and worried stare, and went straight to his quarters. The black-ribboned scroll he'd tucked inside his clothes felt like it was _burning_ against his skin.

 

Once inside his cabin, he plucked out the scroll and threw it onto the floor like it had been some offending vermin that had dared to touch him. He wanted to burn it to ashes, but his bending was gone, so he _stomped_ on it instead. But stomping on it didn't destroy it; stomping on it did nothing to change his father's orders to him.

 

What was he going to _do_?

 

Stupid question. He already knew what he was going to do; it was obvious. Obvious, even though he flinched from the thought. It was an appalling fate...

 

But this was why Agni had taken his bending from him, just moments before he'd read that scroll. To make it even more obvious that he _had_ to do this; there was no other option.

 

Well... the first thing to do was to pack. He looked around him, considering, then picked up the dragon incense-burner that had become Teiji's first toy, and then the little stuffed panda that the baby snuggled with while taking naps in his room. Not too many toys, he had to pack lightly...

 

But his ponderings on what to pack were interrupted when the door of his cabin was abruptly thrown open, to reveal his uncle standing in the doorway, eyes wide with alarm.

 

Uncle Iroh didn't say anything, just looked at him and then quickly around the cabin until he saw the scroll lying on the floor, before swooping in and down to pick up the scroll before Zuko could stop him. "Don't--!" Zuko protested, but it fell on deaf ears; his uncle opened the scroll and read it.

 

When he was finished reading, his uncle looked at him with his eyebrows drawn together in a thunderous frown. "Prince Zuko, what do you intend to do about this?"

 

"Isn’t it obvious? I'm going to take Teiji and leave," Zuko said quietly. "Go deep into the Earth Kingdom, so far ahead of the front lines that nobody will ever recognize me as the banished prince, and then settle there to raise Teiji. I have to do this, Uncle," he said with a firmness that he hoped hid his misery as he reached for his dao blades where they were mounted on the wall. Even without his bending, Zuko vowed he would never be helpless; not when his son was at stake!

 

"I won't stop you, if that is truly what you wish to do," Iroh said firmly as he rolled the scroll up again, before brandishing it in Zuko's direction. "But I will point out that you have another option; one that you likely haven't considered yet."

 

"And what option would that be?" Zuko asked almost warily, as he took the dual-bladed sword down and gave the blades a quick check to be sure they were properly oiled, before clapping them together and reaching for the sheath.

 

"I'll tell you soon enough," Iroh said as he tucked the black-ribboned scroll inside his clothes, hiding it from sight. "First, though, I'm going to brew a pot of tea; we're going to need it. It's finally time that you and I had a long talk..."

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_Meanwhile and much further north, at Makapu Village:_

 

Having saved the village yesterday from being destroyed by an erupting volcano, the Avatar and his companions said goodbye to Aunt Wu and the rest of the villagers. But before they did, Aang swallowed hard and handed back the item that they'd been unsuccessful in discretely sneaking back into its usual spot. He admitted sheepishly to the fortuneteller, "By the way, we kind of borrowed your book."

 

Aunt Wu gave him a stern and piercing look. "So you messed with the clouds, did you!?"

 

Aang and Katara both cringed guiltily, while Sokka just gleefully pointed to his sister to indicate that she'd been in on it too (the stinker!)  
  
But to their relief, Aunt Wu began to laugh instead of shout. **"** Very clever!"

 

But before they could leave, Sokka just had to try one more time; he turned to one of the villagers and said with a rather condescending air, "No offense, but I hope this taught everyone a lesson about not relying too much on fortunetelling."

 

But his attitude just slid off the villager like water from a duck-deer's back as he responded with a calm smile, **"** But Aunt Wu predicted the village wouldn't be destroyed, and it wasn't. She was right, after all."

 

Not quite as calmly, Sokka announced, "I hate you."

 

Katara took her brother by the shoulders before he could start really ranting, and began to steer him towards the waiting sky bison as she said soothingly, "It's ok, Sokka. Everything's going to be all right."

 

It would be all right, indeed... Katara couldn't help smiling to herself as she remembered Aunt Wu's assurance that she would marry a powerful bender, and Sokka's comment just last night that _Aang_ was a powerful bender. Aang was already a good friend, he wouldn't be a kid forever, and he was the most powerful bender in the _world_. And as she urged her brother over to Appa, she overheard Aang saying something to Aunt Wu, something about finding love in his fortune...

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

At noon the next day, the Fire Nation ship _Wani_ docked at the Earth Kingdom's relatively neutral port town of Jiú Guǎn. Two of the older enlisted men had been to the port before, back when they'd been stationed on the scout ship _Maos_ , and they pointed Prince Zuko to the tavern where any information could be had at the right price.

 

A few gold coins later, Prince Zuko had the name of the inn that the Avatar had been staying in for the past week, having graciously accepted free lodging from the innkeeper and his wife.   He ordered the Wani's boarding ramp lowered, and thirty minutes later a formidable-looking force of firebenders mounted on komodo-rhinos surrounded the inn and demanded that the Avatar surrender to them, **_now_** , or face the consequences.

 

As their smoldering fists raised, everyone heard muffled voices from inside the inn; first a woman's voice, sounding frightened... then a man's voice, also sounding frightened... then the woman's voice, sounding _enraged_... And then abruptly a shuttered window on the second floor was flung open and a man wearing Air Nomad robes was flung out of it, shrieking in panic, while a woman shouted through the opening, " _Here's_ your Avatar!"

 

For someone wearing airbender clothing, he was having a bad day at airbending; he fell almost straight down, to end up belly-flopped into the middle of a muddy puddle outside the inn. But the height of the fall hadn't been far enough to be fatal, just enough to knock the wind out of him. A fact which Prince Zuko took full advantage of as he leaped off his komodo-rhino and swooped in, to grab him by the collar while he was still stunned...

 

And then, after a good look at him, dropped him back into the mud with a disgusted sneer and a _splat_. "An impersonator! You're at least ten years too old to be the Avatar I've dealt with before. And you didn't even get the forehead arrow right!" The prince shook his head in disgust as he scoffed, "Impersonating _an enemy of the Fire Nation_ , just for attention and free food? You're just too stupid to live."

 

"Shall we kill him now, sir?" Kunio asked, just a little too eagerly.

 

Zuko gave him a startled look. "What? No, I didn't mean it literally!"

 

The Aang impersonator got up on his elbows, his face imploring. "P-please, sir, I--"

 

Just then a winged staff came flying out the inn's window, to land blunt end first right between the impersonator's shoulder blades, driving him face-first into the muck again.

 

Prince Zuko shook his head again, then picked up the staff and looked it over critically. "The wings don't retract either. And you're obviously not an airbender; how the hells did you fool anybody this long?"

 

When the impersonator looked up again, he saw the staff become a brightly-burning torch in the prince's grip, before being reduced to ashes that flew away on the breeze. "You'd better start running," the prince advised him almost pleasantly. "Before all the people you've been tricking out of their food and money realize what a liar you are, and come after you. A year in one of our prisons would be downright merciful, compared to what an angry mob can do to you."

 

The impersonator didn't argue, didn't say another word; he just scrambled to his feet and started running east and inland, casting fearful glances behind him.

 

Zuko shook his head a final time as he got back in the saddle and tugged on the reins of his mount, sighing in mingled exasperation and resignation, "Let's get back to the ship."

 

"Yes, sir," everyone chorused glumly as they nudged their mounts into motion and formation. Another opportunity to capture the Avatar, gone up in smoke...

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Back in his cabin, Zuko faced his uncle over two steaming cups of tea as he related the details of the latest 'Avatar encounter'. "So, it's back to the first plan," he finished glumly.

 

"You may be right," Iroh said with a disappointed frown. "Though I still think... well, it doesn't matter now. Drink your tea, while I think of some ideas on how we're going to do this without raising suspicions too quickly."

 

Zuko picked up his cup to take a sip—and a sudden shock of impact reverberated throughout the ship, splashing the cup’s contents all over his face. Growling under his breath as he wiped the tea off and swept his phoenix plume back in place, he got up and stomped out, to find out what the hells had just hit his ship!

 

Uncle Iroh hurried after him and they arrived on deck together, to find a huge and hideous eyeless monster climbing aboard their ship, with a whip-wielding woman on his back. The woman called out, “Get back! We're after a stowaway.”

 

All the crew members around him were fearfully backing up or falling into defensive stances, but Zuko refused to be intimidated by the monstrous beast; he stood his ground as he informed her, “There are no stowaways on my ship!”

 

But then the beast, snuffling at the deckplates, abruptly bit into the metal—and ripped a section of it out! A section that they’d had repaired after that hellish storm had damaged the ship; either the shipyard crew back at Pouhai City had used substandard materials, or that beast was even stronger than it looked. The cargo hold was right below them; the beast stuck its head into the hold and began sniffing around, while Zuko cursed his lost bending and look frantically around for the other firebenders on his crew, men he could order to attack. Yes, it was a hideous and hideously strong monster, but if they didn’t drive it off fast that beast would start gobbling their food stores!

 

Then he stepped back in surprise when a strange Earth Kingdom peasant popped up out of the hole and began running away from the beast. A stowaway? But how had she known, when even Zuko hadn’t known the man was aboard?

 

The stowaway’s desperate dash for freedom came to an abrupt end when the beast opened its mouth and an _insanely_ long tongue lashed out, tagging the fleeing man on the back of his neck. The man abruptly collapsed right in his tracks, to lie on the deck utterly unmoving.

 

Zuko stared in dismay at the man who’d just been turned into a _corpse_ right in front of him—no wait, not a corpse; he was still breathing! But though the peasant’s expression was clearly terrified, he wasn’t moving at all… “He’s paralyzed!”

 

The black-haired woman with the whip commented as she slid out of the beast’s saddle, “Only temporarily. The toxins will wear off in about an hour.” She hoisted the paralyzed man up by his collar, smirking as she finished, “But by then he'll be in jail and I'll have my money.”

 

After having identified herself as a bounty hunter with that speech, the woman loaded her prey onto the back of her beast’s saddle while Zuko asked, “But how did you find him on my ship?”

 

The bounty hunter stroked the monster’s fur and climbed into the saddle as she replied, “My shirshu can smell a rat a continent away.”

 

Uncle Iroh commented, “Well, I'm impressed.” The woman cracked her whip, and her shirshu leaped off the ship and onto the dock. Hunter and mount galloped away as his uncle mused with _that_ tone to his voice, “Very impressed.”

 

Despite everything else going on inside his head at the moment, Zuko couldn’t help rolling his eyes at his elder’s comment. He loved his uncle, really, but there were times when he’d _swear_ that the old man went out of his way to be a lecher, acting like he was obsessed with sex as well as tea. Although the teen admitted that he hadn’t much room for complaining about other people’s obsessions, given his own obsession with capturing the Avatar and—

 

Zuko stopped his inner tirade as a thought struck him, and then stared alongside his uncle at the bounty hunter disappearing between the buildings lining the dock. He had an idea…

 

An hour later, while he was meeting with Lieutenant Jee to explain his plan, his uncle stopped by with the baby in his sling and the satchel of ‘Teiji supplies’ slung over his shoulder, stuffed to bursting with diapers and whatnot. “Where are you going, Uncle?” he asked.

 

“I’ve just discovered that my old friend General Hong is living nearby!” Iroh said cheerfully. "You remember my telling you about him, nephew; he fell madly in love with and married an Earth Kingdom woman, and after his retirement he left the home islands. I had thought he’d settled in the colony of Yu Dao, but I’ve just heard that he’s living in this neutral port instead! So I’m going to go catch up on old times with him, while showing off my first grandchild!”

 

“Are you taking an escort, sir?” Lieutenant Jee asked with concern.

 

“Oh, no need; I’ll be riding my favorite komodo-rhino! Flower Petal looks fierce enough to deter your average bandit, and she’s swift enough to outrun anyone who’s not deterred. I expect we’ll be staying overnight at my old friend’s house, returning by lunchtime tomorrow,” Iroh added as Zuko came over to give Teiji a quick tickle and kiss on the forehead, and a quiet admonishment to behave for his grandfather. Then the elder and child left, while Zuko continued to explain his plan.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

It had been a good day for Jun the bounty hunter, and it was shaping up to be a good night too. It had taken far less time than she’d thought to track down her latest bounty; the Earth Kingdom official who’d hired her had passed along the rumor that he’d been heading north and planning to lose himself in a Fire Nation colony, but instead Nyla had found him in a ship docked at Jiú Guǎn, Jun’s own stomping grounds! The fool must have stowed away on a ship that he’d thought was headed in a different direction.

 

She’d turned him in and collected the bounty without any quibbling on the Earth Kingdom official’s part, and headed with the money first to her favorite butcher shop to get Nyla’s dinner, and then to her favorite tavern. And right after her second drink, just to top off the evening, in had walked another muscle-bound cretin who’d thought that he could beat her at arm-wrestling just because he had a dick between his legs, instead of years of tough training and combat experience under his belt.

 

She beat him without breaking a sweat, collected her winnings from the match and announced to the house, “Drinks are on me!” The bar patrons roared their approval, while the bartender grinned and brought over a cup of her favorite firewhiskey.    

 

She grinned and hoisted the brew, but even while drinking she kept her ears open; a habit acquired from all the bar fights she’d been in over the years. So she heard when somebody near the front door started asking for a “bounty hunter that I was told comes here often; one who can track people by their scent?”

 

“Hey Jun, got another customer!” Kuong the bouncer hollered to her, and she waved her drink as a signal to send him over. She gave the newcomer a quick once-over; nondescript brown clothes, no visible jewelry, probably no money and he wanted her to take a commission and find somebody purely out of the goodness of her heart. Which she generally answered with derisive laughter; _nobody_ had ever done _anything_ for her out of the goodness of their hearts, and noble deeds didn’t pay for Nyla’s steaks.

 

But what the hell, she hadn’t laughed right in anybody’s face for days; might as well make the night complete. So she kicked back in her chair as the newcomer approached, and said without preamble, “Whatcha got for me?”

 

“You’re the bounty hunter?” the man asked in surprise. And before she could start scowling at the sexist cowpig, he added, “Wow, they said you were a really tough lady but they didn’t say you were _gorgeous_!” And then he looked embarrassed and mumbled sheepishly, “Sorry; you probably get that a lot.”

 

Awww, such a sweet-talker. Jun smiled as she said, “Often enough,” though not often enough that she got tired of hearing it. But sweet talking didn’t buy Nyla’s steaks either, so she repeated, “So, whatcha got for me?”

 

“My master sent me to find you, and ask you to meet with him and talk about finding someone for him,” Sweet-Talker said as he reached into his belt pouch, and pulled out a gold coin. “He said to give you this, just if you agree to come with me to meet him instead of him coming here,” as he proffered the coin with an earnest expression.

 

So there was money involved after all; probably a decent amount of it, if someone was willing to pay her a gold coin just for coming to listen to him. Jun drained her cup, beckoned the bartender over, and gave him half her winnings to pay for the round she’d bought the house. “Okay, Sweet-Talker, let’s go see your boss. He lives nearby?” she said as she grabbed the gold coin and gestured for him to come outside with her.

 

“Not real close, but I have a mount at the stables nearby,” Sweet-Talker said as he walked with her outside. “You can ride with me, or ride your… um, pardon me, what is that incredible mount of yours called? I saw a beast that I’d never seen before outside the stables on my way over, and it looked _dangerous_ enough that I figured it must be yours.”

 

“Yeah, that’s my girl; she’s a shirshu. They’re rare, just as dangerous as they look, and usually impossible to tame,” Jun informed him. “But my family has always considered ‘impossible’ as just a challenge,” she added modestly.

 

But as they walked across the street to the stables, Jun’s combat sense kicked in when four guys who’d been loitering outside the tavern started following them. It got worse when she noticed how many people were just standing near the stables, forming a wide ring around the tree she’d left Nyla tied to… including a group of four that stepped away from the rest to walk towards her. No, to _march_ towards her, shit, this was definitely trouble…

 

She filled her lungs to whistle for Nyla, but paused when the oldest man in the quartet coming towards her, one with a graying mustache and muttonchops, snapped, “Whistle or shout, and that mount of yours is flash-fried!” as he flicked a flame into existence above his fingers. Double shit, firebenders, and they had the drop on her! There were too many of them for Nyla to paralyze before they set her on fire.

 

Surrounded by enemies, she stopped in her tracks and said flatly, “What do you want.”

 

The man in the lead pushed back the hood of his nondescript brown cloak, to reveal the same scarred but youthful face and bizarre hairdo she’d seen earlier that day aboard a ship at the docks. Baldy-boy looked at Sweet-Talker first, saying with a nod, "Good job, Tadao, on extracting her without raising a fuss or suspicions."

 

“Thank you, sir!” Tadao the foxweasel said as he saluted before stepping back into ranks with the others.

 

“As for what I want,” Baldy-boy said as he addressed Jun, “What do you think I’m here for? Since I’m sure you remember when we met earlier, aboard my ship…”

 

Jun would be damned straight through all the hells before she cringed or showed servility to any man, no matter how many minions he had. She sneered, “I’m guessing you want me to apologize for scratching the paint on your little beauty.”

 

Everyone present bristled with indignation and anger, and Muttonchops growled at her, “You are addressing His Royal Highness Prince Zuko, firstborn son of Fire Lord Ozai! People have _died_ for speaking to a royal with such disrespect! And you should be aware that an attack on any vessel the prince is on, is treated the same as an attack on the prince himself!”

 

Son of the Fire Lord?! She didn’t know much about Fire Nation royalty, but she knew enough to be sure they were speaking the truth; nobody impersonated a royal family member unless they were willing to risk the same punishment that came from attacking one: **Death, by slow torture.** Jun’s heart sunk as she realized that she was _utterly screwed_.

 

…Or maybe not. If they really wanted her heart on a platter in payment for the insult, they would have charged right into the tavern after her, or set fire to the building while she was still inside it. Instead, they’d brought her out here without any real violence yet, which meant they wanted something else. “So what do you want, money for fixing the deckplates?” She gave them a disdainful look as she offered, “Send me an invoice, and I’ll pay it out of my next bounty.”

 

“I’m after more than that,” Prince Baldy-Boy informed her grimly. “I could have you thrown in jail to avenge the insult, and you shirshu sold to the highest bidder to recoup the money… but I’ll accept a service from you instead.”

 

“What service would that be?” she asked warily. The _hells_ she was going to give him the sort of service he could get from the painted ladies that frequented the docks; she’d take her chances in a firefight first.

 

Prince Baldy-Boy held up a hand, and a woman’s necklace dangled from his grip. “I want you to find someone.”

 

Okay, _now_ she was back in familiar territory; negotiating a bounty. She looked at the necklace without touching it, and then looked over it at his face. “What happened? Your girlfriend run off on you?”

 

Most of the men bristled again, but the prince calmed them with a mere gesture as he said, “It's not the girl I'm after, it's the bald monk she's traveling with. If you find them, I'll consider the insult and the damage to my ship repaid. And I’ll even throw in an extra forty gold coins on top of that, for travel expenses, because you’re going to take me with you while you hunt them down.”

 

That… was actually a decent deal, all things considered. A better deal than she likely would have gotten if she’d damaged the Earth King’s personal yacht. But because she was Jun the Shirshu Tamer, the toughest bounty hunter in any nation, she still dared to hold her hand out and demand, “Half now, and the rest when they’re captured and brought back here.”

 

“ _Ten_ now, and the other thirty upon mission completion,” Prince Baldy-boy countered her with a frown. “That’s more incentive for you to do the job to my satisfaction. You already have funds for starting the hunt; the gold coin we gave Tadao to lure you out here, and the money from the bounty you just collected.”

 

Jun frowned, but agreed. She’d started bounty hunting years ago with a lot less in her pocket, and this royal had just agreed to give her the remaining gold upon return to his ship in front of a lot of witnesses.  

 

“Do you _swear_ to abide by this bounty contract, on your honor as a hunter? And on the life of your shirshu?” the prince persisted; he was probably concerned about her slitting his throat in his sleep or something.

 

Jun scowled. “Don’t insult my professionalism, kid. Yes, I swear to the contract: I will hunt down the girl that necklace belongs to and the boy with her, and transport them _and you_ safely back to your ship in exchange for forty gold coins, ten now and thirty upon our return.”

 

The prince nodded, pulled out a pouch and counted out ten gold coins, handing them over to Jun, before handing the pouch over to Muttonchops. “Lieutenant, I entrust this to you, as well as temporary command of my ship. When my uncle returns tomorrow, inform him of what’s happened. Oh, and if you haven’t heard back from me within ten days, at least a hawk-message with my personal seal and code phrase on it, you are to let _my uncle_ decide what retribution will be taken against Jun, or if she’s not present, against _this entire town_.”

 

Prince Baldy-Boy turned to face her again, with a downright nasty smile on his scarred features. “You have heard of my uncle, right? The Dragon of the West?”

 

Jun swallowed hard as she nodded, almost against her will. Oh yeah, she’d heard of the Dragon of the West…

 

“Good. Now let’s go,” as he gestured to another one of his men, who produced a full pack of supplies and a pair of loaded saddlebags. The saddlebags were probably made for a komodo-rhino, but Jun strapped them onto the back of Nyla’s saddle easily enough, before letting her get a good sniff of that necklace.

 

“Good hunting, Your Highness,” the lieutenant said as he and all the other men present saluted the prince once he was in the saddle.

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Jun heard the prince say directly behind her. And she heard him swallow—a nervous or emotional type of swallow?—before adding, “Good fortune to you as well. I know my ship and crew are in safe hands with you.”

 

She’d heard more than enough sentiment from Fire folks; Jun cracked the whip, and Nyla bounded down the street with an eager growl, tracking the scent she’d been given.

 

But as soon as they were outside the town and heading north along the coast, less than ten minutes into the hunt, the prince suddenly ordered her, "Stop! Stop here! I have a new scent marker for your beast to follow."

 

"What the hells?" Jun muttered, but she tugged on Nyla's reins anyway. Once the shirshu had stopped, she reached a hand back over her shoulder. "Okay, let's have the new scent marker."

 

The prince put something in her hand, and she drew it forward--and found herself staring at a little and well-used stuffed panda.

 

She stared for exactly one second, and then she reached behind herself again to grab the prince by whatever she could reach. The instant that she had a firm grip she heaved him forward over her shoulder, yelping in shock, to slam him down face-up across Nyla's back. She kept her iron grip on him as she snarled down at his stunned face, "I don't care how royal you are; you'd better have _a really fucking good reason_ as to why you want me to hunt down a child!"

 

"H-he's my son!" Prince Baldy-Boy gasped as he tried to catch his breath from being slammed around. "My son by adoption; we don't look alike, but when we find them he'll call me 'Daddy,' you'll see! And we're finding him first because we have to bring him with us!"

 

"You want to bring a _baby_ on a bounty hunt?!" Jun stared down at him incredulously. "Does that scar go clear through to your _brains_?"

 

“No, listen! I never once lied to you, but I had to lie to my crew! And if you complete the _real_ mission, there’s _two_ _hundred_ gold pieces waiting for you! Just listen…”

 

And then the prince told her the most incredible story she’d heard all year, and that included the evening she’d spent drinking in a bar in Omashu and listening to stories of their crazy king’s antics… But the most incredible thing was, she at least halfway believed him.

 

So she gave Nyla the new scent marker, and moments later they were heading east-by-southeast instead, deep inland. After half an hour of hard riding, they found a small campsite with a fat old man sitting down and cradling a baby in his arms, while a komodo-rhino foraged in the shrubs along a stream several yards away. The oldster didn’t even blink at their approach, just put a finger to his lips to indicate the need for quiet; the baby was sleeping.

 

When they got close to the camp, the komodo-rhino snorted and came charging right at them, but one flick of Nyla’s tongue put a stop to that. As soon as Noble Idiot leaped down from the saddle and took the baby with soft murmurs and cuddles, the oldster walked over to where the komodo-rhino lay paralyzed and patted its horned head with a quietly mournful, “I’m sorry, Flower Petal, but I’m sure you’ll be fine in an hour or so. Thank you for your loyal service; may you find a new and caring owner soon.”

 

Still in the saddle, Jun stared down at the old man, whom she’d barely taken note of when she’d seen him earlier aboard the ship; given his fat gut, slow way of walking and casual robes, she would have instantly dubbed him ‘Uncle Lazy’ if they’d met again under other circumstances. “…Are you really _the Dragon of the West_?”

 

“I was, once,” the old man said calmly but with regret clouding his features. “Much about me has changed since those days.”

 

To that, Jun could only respond, “No kidding.”

 

“If you refuse to take me as a passenger aboard your magnificent mount, I understand,” the old man said quietly. “All I ask is that you save my nephew and grandson.”

 

“No, we have to bring him, too!” Noble Idiot insisted.

 

After another few seconds, Jun sighed loudly and told Noble Idiot, “Your craziness must be catching.” She held her hand out with a gruff, “All right, Grandpappy, get up here, assuming you can even get that bulk of yours off the ground.”

 

Grandpappy grinned happily. “I shall do my best, dear lady! You are as gracious as you are beautiful,” as he climbed up with a lot more nimbleness than his looks implied.

 

“Stow the sweet talking; I’ve had enough of that lately,” Jun told him sourly as she slid down from the saddle, while Noble Idiot was carrying both the baby and another set of saddlebags over to Nyla.

 

She grabbed the saddlebags and tossed them over her shoulder, and then told Noble Idiot, “Now that you’ve got a hand free, give me some light to see by.” Noble Idiot tensed, but obediently turned his palm up and cradled a small flame in it, while Jun looked at the baby’s face. She lightly tickled and rubbed his chin, a little like the way she petted her ‘Snuffly-Wuffly’ when no clients or criminals were around, while cooing, “Wakey wakey, kiddo; let’s see those famous eyes…”

 

Kiddo blinked and yawned awake, giving Jun a good look at his mismatched eyes; one brown, one blue. “I swear to you on my honor as a prince that he is **_not_** a witch-child; there is no magic power or evil in him,” Noble Idiot whispered fervently.

 

“Don’t get your underwear in a twist, boy; I just wanted to see,” Jun said dismissively as she took the saddlebags over to Nyla. She tied them in place with the rest of the luggage while Noble Idiot handed the baby up to his uncle and climbed back into the saddle, and then waved the original scent marker, the girl’s necklace, under Nyla’s nose again. Seconds later they were off again, heading north-by-northwest under the gleaming stars.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_One very long shirshu ride / One happy Water Tribe reunion, guilty confession and angry parting later:_

 

Sokka decided that if this wasn’t proof that the universe just had it in for them, then he didn’t know what else would do. He and Katara had left Bato to travel solo to the rendezvous point and see their dad again, because they knew the Avatar would need them more, but they were only halfway back to the abbey and Aang when suddenly they were facing a monster out of somebody’s nightmare!

 

They tried to outrun it, but in no time at all they were cornered by the monster; huge, hideous, eyeless, snarling to show jaws full of carnivorous teeth, and practically slavering as it seemed to focus on Katara. And the monster had people riding on its back—including Prince Zuko!

 

Zuko twisted in the saddle to hand a large bundle back to the elderly man Katara had said was his uncle, while a scary(sexy)-looking lady with a whip in one hand and the monster’s reins in the other commented, “So this is your girl, eh? She’s even younger than you are.”

 

Zuko apparently ignored the scary-sexy lady as he slid down from the saddle to take two steps toward them, demanding, “Where is he? Where’s the Avatar?”

 

Sokka would have spit at him, except his mouth was suddenly too dry to spare the saliva. But he still had enough to say defiantly, “We split up! He’s long gone.”

 

Zuko scowled at him and snarled, “How stupid do you think I am?”

 

Every warrior ancestor Sokka had ever been told about would have approved of his answer in the face of certain doom; an almost nonchalant, “Pretty stupid.” Then he grabbed Katara and shouted, “Run!”

 

Unfortunately, they only got about three steps before something sharp slapped across the back of his neck—and just like that, he and Katara were both face-down in the dirt, unable to move. They heard Zuko protest behind them, “I didn’t tell you to do that!”

 

The scary-sexy lady’s voice had a matter-of-fact tone to it. “Nyla knows paralysis is standard procedure if the quarry tries to make a break for it; it saves on trouble during capture and transporting. Relax; they’ll be fine in an hour, remember?”

 

“But I didn’t—oh, forget it! What are we supposed to do now? We need the Avatar!”

 

The beast’s horrible snuffling grew louder, and the scary-sexy lady commented, “She’s seeking a different scent; perhaps something that the Avatar held.”

 

A few minutes later, Sokka and Katara were face-down across the saddle behind the Fire Nation people, and jouncing helplessly as the ‘shirshu’ bounded down the trail, heading straight for the abbey. Sokka tried hard to hold onto the contents of his stomach, before he spewed his breakfast all over the saddle; he was sure he didn’t want to get on the scary-sexy lady’s bad side. But that was all he was sure of, his mind still reeling from what Prince Zuko had shown them and said to him and Katara before loading them onto the saddle…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Having been warned by the abbess, Aang was ready for a fight with Zuko and whatever ‘horrible monster’ the prince had working for the Fire Nation. He spiraled down over the monster with all the people in the saddle, noting how the beast seemed to be tracking him in the spiral, then pulled up just as the beast reared up on its hind legs and tried to snag him with a super-long tongue. The tongue missed while, just as Aang had hoped, the monster overbalanced and fell backwards as everybody fell out of the saddle to the hard paving stones below.

 

Aang was feeling pretty pleased with his cleverness in that maneuver, until he heard three things all at once. Prince Zuko screaming in a voice raw with terror, “ _Teiji_!” Katara screaming “The baby!” and a baby, just screaming at the top of its lungs.

 

Heart pounding in his ears, he whipped back around instead of heading for high ground, and landed next to where everyone had been dumped from the saddle. Zuko had scrambled to his knees next to the elder he’d called his uncle, and was hyperventilating in clear panic as he held a squirming, wailing bundle to his chest; the elder was groaning while slowly attempting to sit up. Katara and Sokka were both flopped onto their stomachs nearby, but raising their heads to stare worriedly at Zuko and the baby in his arms. Katara said anxiously, “Is he okay?”

 

**- _thwop_ -**

 

And suddenly Aang was seeing nothing but paving stones. What had hit the side of his neck—and how come he couldn’t move anymore?!

 

His head lolled to one side, just enough for him to see the woman who’d been holding the reins of the monster get to her feet as she said dryly, “Well, we got your Avatar … How’s the kid?” as she looked to her right.

 

“Ssshhh, sshhh, brave soldier boy… I-I think he just got scared and a little bruised by the fall; I don’t feel anything broken,” Zuko said, his voice still shaky as he rubbed the screaming baby’s back. “Thank you for shielding him, Uncle… Are you all right?”

 

“I will be fine,” his uncle groaned as he slowly and painfully sat up all the way, rubbing his shoulder. “And I could do no less for my grandson.”

 

Just then Appa gave a furious bellow as he slammed down _hard_ somewhere nearby in the courtyard; he’d probably seen Aang go down, and he wanted to protect his friend and hurt whoever had done that to him.   The eyeless monster that was outside Aang’s field of vision snarled in response, and within seconds the air was filled with a cacophony of growls, snarls, roars and earth-shaking crashes as the two beasts started fighting.

 

Zuko quickly handed the baby back to his uncle and snarled as he jumped to his feet, “We have to break up the beasts’ fighting, before they hurt Teiji or wreck the place!”

 

“Help me up; Appa will listen to us!” Katara said urgently to Zuko, ignoring Sokka’s indignant squawk and Aang’s half-voiced protest—if they were all paralyzed and helpless, did they really want Appa to _stop_ fighting for them?

 

Zuko hurried over to Katara and hauled her to her feet, standing right behind her with his hands around her to brace her upright as she shouted, “Appa! Appa, stop fighting; we’re okay! _Appa, stop, please_!”

 

Somewhere outside Aang’s still limited field of vision, the lady with the whip cracked it a couple times as she shouted, “Nyla, down! No fighting! Down!”

 

The fighting didn’t stop right away, but Katara and whip-lady kept shouting and eventually both Appa and the other creature settled down to just growling at each other. Aang felt a gust of hot breath sweep over him, figured out that Appa was right above him and said reassuringly, “I’m okay, buddy. Well, I can’t move and I don’t know what the heck’s going on, but other than that I’m okay…”

 

Zuko glanced over his shoulder at Aang, and if Aang hadn’t known better, he would have thought the look was apologetic (but the sun would rise in the _West_ before Prince Zuko would apologize for anything). “The shirshu venom that paralyzed you is supposed to wear off in an hour or so. Or so Jun said; she’s the bounty hunter and the shirshu’s owner,” Zuko finished as he carefully lay Katara back down on the ground, rolling her to her side so she was facing in Aang’s direction. He murmured something to her that Aang couldn’t quite hear, and in response Katara… sort-of-smiled at the prince who’d been chasing them for so long. It was a really wry expression, more of a grimace, but she didn’t seem mad at him; why wasn’t she mad at Zuko for capturing them?

 

After letting go of Katara, Zuko went over to where his uncle was sitting with the baby, who was still crying and fussing a lot. But the elderly man shook his head when Zuko reached for the baby, saying just loud enough for Aang to hear, “He’ll be fine soon; we can wait long enough for you to do what you need to do.”

 

Zuko gave a jerky nod to his uncle, and then squared his shoulders, stood up and marched over to where Aang was lying. Still hovering protectively over him, Appa gave a threatening rumble that could be felt in the paving stones, and Zuko stopped in his tracks. Then the prince took a deep breath, and cautiously held his left hand out towards Appa, the fingers loosely curled under; the classic ‘go ahead, take a sniff, I mean no harm’ gesture.   The growl increased in volume—this was _Zuko_ , the Angry Guy Who Throws Fireballs, offering his hand for a sniff—but the prince stood his ground, even as his shoulders stiffened when the baby started wailing louder.

 

Katara narrowed her eyes while gazing at a spot over Aang’s head and opened her mouth, but this time Sokka beat her to it: “Appa, just hush up and go lie down, okay? The baby’s scared, and he’s not going to stop crying while you’re all looming and growling like that. Come on, you want him to think you eat babies?”

 

Appa’s snort of doubt and suspicion gusted over Aang’s back, but the growls diminished and a few moments later he felt the sky bison back off. Zuko stepped up to him, crouched down and somewhat brusquely rolled Aang over so he could see more of what was going on all around him. But right that moment, Aang was only concerned with what was going on right in front of him; still crouched down, Zuko held Aang’s gaze as he declared with an a downright grim look, “Last time we saw each other, you told me you had a friend in the Fire Nation a hundred years ago. How well did you know him?”

 

“Um… pretty well; not as well as I knew Bumi, but Kuzon and I had a lot of fun together. I knew what his favorite food was, what games he liked best, and what he wanted to be when he grew up; stuff like that.” Aang wondered what this was leading to. Maybe…

 

“You knew him enough to have learned at least a few of our customs. So you should know what this means,” Zuko said, his face even more grim than before as he went from crouching to a formal seated position, his heels tucked under his butt. He drew a deep breath, and then drew a pearl-handled knife from his belt. A gleaming steel dagger, and Aang’s heart started pounding in fear as Zuko raised the knife high—

 

And reached back, to slice through his own ponytail right at the base. The prince’s hands trembled slightly as he lowered the knife, but held the ponytail out for a second as if asking the universe to bear witness, before letting it fall at his feet as he sheathed the blade.

 

“…Huh?”

 

“I’m with Aang; huh?” Sokka asked from where he was lying. “Not that I disagree with the haircut; you just don’t have the style or clear ruggedness to handle a warrior’s wolf-tail. But what’s so important about doing it now?”

 

Zuko’s uncle rumbled from where he was sitting while rubbing the baby’s back, “To sever one’s phoenix plume or topknot, is to sever all ties to your family, clan and traditions. Prince Zuko has just declared to the world that he will no longer follow the commands of his father, Fire Lord Ozai.”

 

“I’m not here to capture you, Avatar,” Zuko said solemnly. “Instead, my uncle and I are prepared to ally ourselves with you to defeat Fire Lord Ozai; to dethrone him and end the war. I no longer consider him my liege lord—and no longer my father. I owe him no loyalty at all… not after he ordered me to _kill my son_.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After Appa stopped fighting with the shirshu, the Earth Kingdom nuns came hesitantly into the courtyard, and asked if they could be of assistance. They helped Prince Zuko and his uncle prop Aang and his friends up in chairs arranged in a semicircle, so they could all see each other in conversation. One of the nuns brought out a bottle of very potent perfume that she said had occasional restorative properties; after the bottle was waved under their noses, both Katara and Sokka were fully restored, and Aang could at least feel his arms and legs again.

 

After Katara said she was back to normal, Prince Zuko fished something out of his belt pouch and held it out to her, and she gave a sharp gasp before snatching it from his hand, to bring it up to her throat. “Hey, that’s your necklace!” Sokka said, peering at it in surprise as Katara tied it back in place around her neck. “I thought you lost that way back on the prison barge… How’d you guys get hold of it?”

 

“Zuko discovered it when we visited the barge to refuel our coal supply, and search for clues as to the Avatar’s next destination,” Iroh said as he and Zuko took their seats in chairs facing them. “We’re pleased to be able to return it to you at last,” he added cheerfully as he put the baby down on the ground in front of his chair, and whipped a cute little stuffed panda out of his sleeve for the baby to play with. Zuko hunched his shoulders a little while his uncle was talking, like he was feeling guilty about something, but kept his eyes focused on the baby instead of saying anything.

 

One of the abbey nuns brought out a chair for Jun the bounty hunter, too, but she declined, saying she’d rather be on her way. “After you tell me where my ‘finder’s fee’ is, of course,” she said with a meaningful look at Zuko.

 

Zuko nodded curtly. “I put all the gold I promised you in a small chest and threw it overboard from the aft starboard side of my ship, with a long rope tied tying two pieces of driftwood together to act as a floating marker. You’ll have to wait until my ship actually pulls out of port, but once they do, look for two pieces of driftwood tied together, that aren’t drifting in to shore.”

 

Jun frowned, clearly displeased by the news. “And how long can I expect to wait for that to happen? You told your crew that you might be gone for up to ten days; they’re obviously going to be waiting for you there at least that long!”

 

“I know,” the prince said, looking really guilty now, and really sad too. “And they didn’t know that Uncle and my son would be gone for more than overnight; by now they’re probably searching the countryside, trying to find an old friend of my uncle that doesn’t actually exist, and worrying that something horrible has happened to them. And they won’t have any idea what really happened, until one of them is bold enough to go into my cabin and sees the scroll I left lying on my bed, addressed to my lieutenant. I hated lying to them, and making them worry… but I couldn’t risk any of them finding out what my fa—what Fire Lord Ozai wants done, and one of them being either loyal enough or _heartless_ enough to actually do it.”

 

Jun gave a slow nod of acknowledgment, her frown turning thoughtful. “I can understand that. Well, I can find bounty work elsewhere for a few weeks until the coast is clear.” She took a few packs saddlebags off her shirshu’s back and tossed them down at Zuko’s feet, then swung into the saddle without another word; Jun evidently wasn’t one for big goodbyes.

 

As the shirshu galloped away, Sokka pointed at the small pile of sacks and asked suspiciously, “What’s in those?”

 

“All the possessions that my nephew and I have left in this changed world,” the old man Iroh said sadly. “And most of it is clothes and supplies for little Teiji. We had to pack lightly, to avoid arousing suspicions among our crew… but you are still suspicious of us, it seems,” as he gave Sokka a searching look.

 

“Of course I am,” Sokka said, as if surprised that anyone would think otherwise. “You’re Fire Nation, **_and_** you’ve been chasing us trying to capture Aang since we left the South Pole! The only reason I haven’t already thrown Aang and my sister into Appa’s saddle and left you far behind is that kid right there,” as he pointed at Teiji. “This may still be some crazy long-reaching plot to capture the Avatar--”

 

“You can actually say that, while watching us let our transportation and greatest combat advantage go without a word?!” Zuko interrupted incredulously, while jerking his thumb at the departing bounty hunter and shirshu, still visible in the distance.

 

“I said ‘crazy long-reaching plot’, and how do I know you don’t have your ship steaming up the coast towards us right now?” Sokka shot back, pointing towards the ocean only a few hundred yards away. “But from everything Katara saw and told us about back during that mess with the pirates, I’m sure about one thing; you’re not going to start a fight while the baby’s around, and risk him getting hurt.”

 

“I’m so glad you think we have at least _some_ sense,” Zuko rasped, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

 

“His suspicion is quite reasonable, nephew,” Iroh said in soothing tones. “Trust is hard to earn from former enemies; this alliance will take both time and care to fully forge, if we can.”

 

Sokka sat back and stared hard at the Fire Nation guys for a few seconds more, rubbing his chin in thought. "So you really want to leave your ship and all your Fire Nation-y stuff behind to make an alliance with us?"

 

"If the Avatar agrees to our terms," the prince said bluntly.

 

"Terms?" Katara echoed, with a sharply raised eyebrow, just as Aang said the same thing.

 

Iroh’s expression turned grave. "You must understand, Avatar and companions, that there are _conditions_ placed on our alliance with you. My nephew and I talked this over a great deal before deciding to seek you out and propose joining forces."

 

"If you agree to the terms, you'll have a firebending teacher whenever you're ready for training, and critical intelligence on the Fire Nation; everything from the strength of our forces in each region to the layout of the royal palace and the bunker beneath it," Zuko put in, looking grim. "But if you don't, then we part ways here, and you'll have no help from us at all."

 

"Help that would likely prove crucial, for a small group--forgive me for being blunt, but a small group of children attempting to depose the most powerful man in the world and end a war that's been going on for a hundred years," Iroh finished.

 

Aang said glumly, "You don't have to tell me; I know I need all the help I can get." He had trouble facing the Fire Lord even in his nightmares; he was all too sure that facing the real thing would be a hundred times worse.

 

"But we also know some help comes at too high a price," Sokka said pointedly, frowning hard. "So what are your terms?"

 

"First, that if we succeed in ending Ozai's reign of conquest, you use the Avatar's influence with the other world leaders to prevent the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom from counter-attacking our home islands and colonies out of revenge. We agree that there should be trials for war-crimes, for those who ordered atrocities committed, but let no revenge be taken on innocent Fire Nation citizens, or on troops who had no choice but to follow the orders they were given."

 

"That's pretty reasonable," Aang said as he tried again to nod--and was actually able to do it this time; the shirshu's venom was wearing off. "The monks had always said that revenge is a bad idea, because it only leads to more violence. So we can agree to that; right, guys?"

 

Sokka and Katara looked at each other with combined doubtful and resentful expressions, before turning back to the others. "It depends on what you consider 'atrocities'," Sokka said bluntly. "Do you consider the raids on the Southern Water Tribe to be atrocities? Because there's no way either we or our dad will agree to that condition, unless **_you_** agree that the leader of _at least_ the last raid on our tribe will stand trial and be executed, for killing our mom in cold blood."

 

Iroh and Zuko traded startled glances before turning to the Water Tribe siblings. "In cold blood? You’re certain?" Zuko demanded.

 

"She was murdered in our home, by the leader of that raid seven years ago!" Katara insisted with angry tears in her eyes. "I was the last one to see her alive, and she was standing in front of that monster completely unarmed! She didn't put up a fight, just told me to run get our dad, and I did, but by the time we got back he'd already killed her!"

 

"He'll stand trial," Zuko said instantly, a scowl on his features. "Murder of noncombatants is a war crime, especially when children are involved!" Iroh nodded agreement, his expression grave.

 

"Okay, so that's one condition we can live with," Aang said hastily, hoping to lighten the mood a little. "What's the next one?"

 

"Second, you agree that the colonies--" Zuko began.

 

"Nephew, before we delve into that one, let us discuss the third term," Iroh interrupted him. "The third term, is a far more immediate need."

 

Zuko gave his uncle a curt nod of agreement, then turned back to Aang. "I trust my uncle on spiritual matters, but the rest of the world will trust you more. I want your sworn statement as the Avatar, on a document that we can show to anyone, anywhere and anytime, that my son is **_not_** a witch-child. That you've spiritually examined him, and found no evil or spirit-powers in him whatsoever."

 

Aang blinked in surprise, and then said hesitantly, "Um… sure! As soon as I can figure out how to spiritually examine people. I'm really new to all this spirit-stuff."

 

Zuko gave a huff of frustration at Aang's honest response, just before Katara spoke up. "Would a signed document from a member of the Southern Water Tribe help? Sokka and I can testify that we're used to seeing eyes of different colors on polar-dogs, and none of them have ever exhibited special powers. And besides, how could anyone think an innocent little baby like this one," as she reached down towards the baby currently playing near her feet, "could be evil?"

Zuko gave a hard twitch as Katara reached down, but his uncle's heavy hand on his shoulder kept him in his seat. Katara picked up the baby, set him in her lap and cooed to him, "You're not evil at all, are you? And you're just as cute as any baby could be; yes, you are!" The baby babbled happily back at her, while Zuko slowly relaxed again.

 

“Here, let me take a look at him,” Sokka said, leaning over to peer into the baby’s face. “Huh, how about that; they really are mismatched. One brown, one blue. Wonder if that means he’s part Water Tribe?” He glanced over at Zuko as he continued, “You told Katara you found him, right? Where’d you find him?”

 

“Hundreds of miles south of here; in a forest an hour’s ride south of Senlin Village,” Zuko told them, a scowl deepening on his face. “The village he and his mother had been driven out of, by superstitious fools who blamed an innocent baby for some spirit troubles they’d been having recently.”

 

“Senlin Village?! But we were there, just before the Winter Solstice!” Aang blurted out in surprise. “They were being attacked by the Hei Bai spirit, because it was angry about its forest being destroyed by the Fire Nation. But—those were good people!”

“Good people except when it came to treating strangers who were _different_ from them,” Zuko growled, glaring at Aang like he was challenging him somehow—challenging him to learn the truth, maybe. “Their headman told me that Teiji and his mother had arrived only a few weeks before, and even before the spirit-troubles started, some people wanted them gone just because of Teiji’s eyes!”

 

“Well, then why didn’t they say anything to us about him when we were there?” Katara said with a raised eyebrow. “One of the first things we asked when the headman told us about the trouble they’d been having was if they knew why, but they said that they had no idea why the Hei Bai Spirit was attacking at all!”

 

“Not quite, sis,” Sokka put in unexpectedly, his eyes narrowed as he fingered his chin in hard thought. “When we asked, the headman said ‘we don’t know’… but there was a pause right before he said it, like he was about to say something else.”

 

“Perhaps he was about to say ‘we believe a witch-child’s presence angered the spirit, so we drove both babe and mother out into the wilds to die’,” Iroh suggested, the corners of his mouth turned down and bushy eyebrows drawn together in a mild frown—that somehow looked a lot scarier than Zuko’s scarfaced glare. “But if he told you that, and was proven wrong—as the villagers had already been proven wrong, when driving them away did not stop the attacks—then they would have been seen as not just superstitious, but cold and heartless by the very Avatar they were asking aid of.”

 

“So they covered up their cruelty, and let you save their lying, ignorant skins,” Zuko growled. “While Teiji’s mother was slowly dying in the wilderness from internal injuries… she’d been dead for at least a day by the time I found him, still clinging to her skirts.”

 

Still holding the baby in her lap, Katara gave a shudder before scooping him up into a hug, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, you poor thing! Poor, sweet little boy!” His own face filled with sympathetic misery, Sokka bit his quivering lower lip while reaching over to awkwardly pat the baby’s back.

 

“That’s really horrible,” Aang said with feeling. “It’s a good thing that you did find him in time! I don’t know how to examine for spirit-powers yet, but I’ll be happy to write up a paper saying that I don’t sense any evil in him.”

 

Zuko turned to his uncle with a thoughtful frown as he asked, “Uncle, is that something you can teach the Avatar as well? How to see spirits, like the way you saw the kirin?”

 

Just then one of the nuns, approaching their group with a tray of refreshments, stopped in her tracks so abruptly that the cups threatened to topple over. “A kirin? You saw a kirin? Your pardon, please, I didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but… the kirin still live, they’re not extinct after all?” as her face filled with hope.

 

Iroh turned to the nun, and the other nuns drawing near after hearing her raised voice, with his wrinkle-lined face set in regretful sorrow. “I fear I cannot give you hope of that, dear lady. What I saw was the _spirit_ of a kirin, not a living one. I can not say how long its ghost has lingered in our world; perhaps since even before Chin ordered their slaughter.”

 

“What’s a kirin? Or, what _was_ a kirin?” Sokka asked curiously. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

 

“Sacred creatures, of great spiritual power,” the abbess answered, looking somber. “They were keepers of justice, protectors of the innocent; associated with righteous rule. In centuries past, the Earth Kings and the kings of city-states were not truly accepted by their people until a kirin came out of the wilderness of its own accord to bless the ruler and his reign. Which is why Chin the Conqueror ordered their slaughter, nearly 400 years ago.”

 

“Chin the Conqueror?” Aang asked curiously. He’d never heard of the man, but he’d never really paid much attention when the monks were teaching Earth Kingdom history; it had been more fun to think up new airbending techniques like riding air-scooters.

 

“A cruel and rapacious man, who conquered over a third of the Earth Kingdom before meeting his end when he confronted the newly risen Avatar Kyoshi,” the abbess informed him. “At first Chin tried to claim his conquest was righteous by keeping a kirin at his side, but none of them would come near him. He set squads of foresters and even small armies to hunt them down, and they managed to captured three of the sacred creatures, but two of the kirin died within hours of their capture, even though they’d been brought in unharmed. The third rampaged through his camp, killing dozens of soldiers, and nearly killed Chin himself before it was cut down. After that, Chin set a hideously high bounty on them, offering hundredweights of gold for each kirin’s head, and the mercenary scum of the world began hunting them all.” The abbess’s head lowered as she finished somberly, “By the time of Chin’s death, there were no kirin left alive, and our world is poorer for their loss.”

 

“Like the dragons,” Zuko murmured just barely loud enough for Aang to hear, his eyes also downcast.

 

The dragons? But there were plenty of dragons around, like the wild one that he and Kuzon had met in their last adventure, just before… Aang suddenly had a horrible thought; in the century he’d spent sleeping in ice, had something happened to the dragons _too_?

 

But before he could ask that, Iroh said in a musing tone, “Righteous rule… I had forgotten that aspect of the kirin. I wonder now, Prince Zuko, if the name we chose for Teiji is far more appropriate than we’d thought.”

 

“Huh?” as Zuko blinked at him, drawn out of whatever depressing thoughts he’d been thinking.

 

“Teiji means ‘righteous’ or ‘well-governed’, remember. And the kirin-spirit that was staying near Teiji until you rescued him, did two things before returning to the Spirit World. It nuzzled the top of Teiji’s head… and then it moved to stand very clearly next to _you_ , nephew. The rightful heir to the Fire Nation throne.”

 

Everyone’s eyes went wide, as they stared at either Zuko, or at the baby still sitting in Katara’s lap. “Wh-what are you saying, uncle?” Zuko said hesitantly. “I thought you agreed that he could only be my ward! I love Teiji as a son, but he’s not of my blood, and wasn’t even born on Fire Nation soil; our people would _never_ accept him as my heir, in line for the throne!”

 

“There is more than one throne in the world, nephew… but no, I do not know what Teiji’s destiny holds, whether he is meant to rule a nation when he is grown or merely his own household. I am sure of one thing, though; you will certainly be a more righteous ruler than the man currently holding the throne. Of that, I am _very_ certain,” Iroh said with a scowl as he reached for one of the saddlebags, opened it and pulled out a scroll, which he then tossed to Aang. “Young Avatar, my nephew sent his father a letter immediately after we rescued Teiji, telling him of his intention to adopt the orphan child and show the Fire Nation’s more benevolent side. You have in your hands the response Fire Lord Ozai sent to his son.”

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

His stomach roiling, Zuko watched the Avatar unroll the letter and begin reading it aloud, presumably for his companions’ benefit. There was no need to read it aloud for Zuko’s own benefit; the words had long since burned themselves into his brain, as searing as Fath—as _Ozai_ ’s hand had been, over two years ago…

 

“From His Imperial Majesty, the Chosen of Agni, the August Ruler of all the blah blah blah, lots of silly titles…”

 

…okay, _those_ words hadn’t been burned into his brain before. Zuko could hardly believe his ears; in all his life, no one had _ever_ referred to _anything_ about Fire Lord Ozai as ‘silly’.

 

“…Okay, here’s where the real letter starts.” The Avatar cleared his throat and began reading in a ridiculously pompous voice, “The Fire Nation palace is not a playground for Earth Kingdom peasants. You have disgraced yourself and the royal line with your actions, far worse than your shameful behavior in the Agni Kai arena. In order to redeem yourself, and to prove that you are strong enough and ruthless enough to be fit for the Fire Throne, you must kill the child with your bare hands’—what?! Guys, it really says this, ‘your bare hands. You will immediately send back proof that you have done this, in the form of the child’s… _the child’s head_ _pickled in a barrel_!” The last words were said in strangled tones, as the Avatar’s expression turned from shock to sickened. “Pickled in a... that’s so… I’m never going to eat pickled _anything_ ever again!”

 

“Let me see that,” the Water Tribe boy demanded, snatching the scroll from the Avatar’s nerveless grip to read it himself. For her part, the peasant girl clutched Teiji tighter to her chest and shrank away from the scroll, as if fearing it was contaminated by disease.

 

Looking at them, Zuko once more fought down the impulse to snatch his son back from her grip, and cuddle Teiji close again. His uncle has stressed repeatedly while they’d been discussing what they would do in this first meeting, that he would have to trust the Water Tribe people to treat Teiji properly; to do otherwise would be seen as an insult, and they could not afford to insult the people they were hoping to make allies. But he wanted his son back in his arms, dammit! It was the only time he felt certain that Teiji was safe from hate and harm.

 

He silently willed Teiji to start fussing in the stranger’s grip, or at least to turn and reach out for him; Uncle had said it would be okay to take him back then. But Teiji was too busy staring at the Water Tribe girl’s necklace, babbling baby talk and patting at it with his tiny fingers, to pay his own father any mind.

 

When he was finished reading the scroll for himself, the Water Tribe boy threw it on the ground, his face screwed up in disgust. “I knew the Fire Nation was evil, but that’s completely _sick_!”

 

“We are **_not_** all evil,” Uncle Iroh said firmly, before conceding, "but the Fire Lord himself surely is. We come from the same father, but it has been many years since I called him my brother... and decades more since he referred to me as his brother, if he ever did. There is no room for love and family left in his shriveled heart; the only thing he loves is power."

 

"And Azula," Zuko heard himself muttering the words before he could stop them. Fortunately, he'd been quiet enough that nobody seemed to notice, or not care enough to ask him what he meant by that.

 

Moments later, an unmistakable and embarrassing _blart_ sounded from the vicinity of Teiji’s nether regions. The Water Tribe girl holding him wrinkled her nose while the boys with her started leaning far away from her seat, comical expressions of disgust on their features. Normally Zuko would have been wrinkling his nose too, in anticipation of the usual nasty odor and mess that needed cleaning up immediately, but right then he had to push down a relieved smile instead. Finally, he had the excuse he needed!

 

He grabbed the carrysack of diapers and cleaning supplies from their meager luggage while the girl stood up with Teiji, gingerly holding him a little away from her body. When he approached, she held out her free hand with resignation written all over her features, evidently expecting him to pass her the bag. But instead he scooped Teiji out of her arms, turned around and asked a nun, “Where can I find some privacy for dealing with my son’s personal hygiene?”

 

Her eyebrows were raised with surprise for some reason, but the nun pointed him over to the building on the right, a storehouse for their goods. “Let’s get you cleaned up, little man,” Zuko murmured to his son as he strode away, quietly relishing how Teiji was clinging to him as he walked.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Iroh couldn’t help smiling and chuckling a little at the expressions on the faces of the Avatar and his companions as they watched Zuko stride away with Teiji. The Avatar was wide-eyed with surprise, but it was nothing compared to how utterly _stunned_ the Water Tribe siblings looked; he doubted they could have been more astonished if his nephew had suddenly turned purple, sprouted fins and started _swimming_ through the air instead.

 

“Is he really going to… and he’s a _prince_?!” the girl murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

 

The boy named Sokka, on the other hand, directed his question straight to Iroh. “Is he really going to change the baby’s diaper?!” Then he pointed sideways at his sister as he added, “Did he somehow _miss_ noticing that Katara’s a _girl_?”

 

That question made the girl lose her astonishment at Zuko’s actions, in favor of outrage at her brother. “Excuse me?! No, excuse _you_ and your blind prejudice about women! Do you need the Kyoshi Warriors to beat you into the practice mats again?!”

 

Iroh decided to deliberately misunderstand their astonishment and the reason behind it, to defuse the siblings’ quarrel. “If you’re concerned about my nephew Prince Zuko being inexperienced with diaper-changing, I can assure you your concern is unfounded. It’s true that I and others had to show him how to do it at first, but in the past month he has become quite the expert at it, and in truth he is now far quicker and neater at diaper-changing than I am. Because my nephew has a kind and caring heart as well as great attention to detail, particularly when it comes to Teiji’s well-being.”

 

And when inspiration hit him while he was talking, he grabbed the idea and happily implemented it to make the _perfect_ opportunity to garner more sympathy from the children for their former enemy. “Why, when we found the baby he had a terrible rash on his nethers, but that’s entirely cleared up now, and largely thanks to Zuko’s tender ministrations! He takes such gentle care of his son’s skin; far better than he would let me take care of his own skin, after his father burned him so horribly.”

 

 _Perfect_. The three children all gasped in unison, as much on cue as if he had given them a script to read from. “Y-you mean… the scar on his face?” the Avatar asked, wide-eyed.

 

“I do indeed. You see--”

 

“Uncle!” Zuko interrupted, sticking his head out of the warehouse to show a truly distressed expression. “Don’t tell them about my--”

 

“About your supposed shame and dishonor?” Iroh rode right over his protests like a komodo-rhino heading for the food trough. “It is long past time you accepted the truth, nephew; that you did nothing to be ashamed of, that your actions were _honorable_ if foolhardy, and it is your father who is completely honorless!”

 

And with that he told the children the same story that he’d told the men aboard the Wani, though not in quite the same fashion. He no longer had any concerns about being reported by Ozai's hidden spies for sedition, so he no longer bothered to choose his words carefully or censor his recollections. And he had to pause in a few places to explain aspects of Fire Nation culture to them, such as the Agni Kai.

 

While explaining the reasons for and rituals of the Agni Kai, he emphasized to them, “Normally a full and properly witnessed Agni Kai is fought only by adults! Both participants must be at least sixteen years old, the legal age for signing their own documents and enlisting in the military. But in rare circumstances, youths younger than that age are allowed to fight for their honor or their family’s honor; usually only if the youth’s parents are off the island or crippled, completely unable to fight, and a neutral third party can testify that the youth has had enough training in firebending and combat to give him or her a fighting chance. Such honor duels are only allowed by special decree of the local authority… and there is no authority higher than the Fire Lord.”

 

He glanced over at Zuko, who had returned to their circle with Teiji by then but was keeping his head down, determinedly focusing on his son rather than on their audience. “You thought that you’d be fighting General Bujing... and that your father was honoring you, declaring you were an excellent firebender after all, by decreeing you could duel in an Agni Kai; am I right?”

 

His cheeks burning nearly as red as his scar, Zuko gave only one curt nod in response.

 

Iroh turned back to his audience and grimly informed them, “But that is not what happened. Zuko had been right to denounce the general’s plan, but he had done so in the Fire Lord’s war room. And though he did not know it, this was not the first time General Bujing had proposed such a plan, sacrificing large numbers of untrained or ill-equipped troops in order to draw out the more experienced or more powerful opponents… and had his plans approved by Ozai.”

 

That got Zuko twisting in his seat to look at him wide-eyed, as he blurted out, “They were _approved_?! You… you never told me that before!”

 

Iroh gazed back at him sadly. “Before now, would you have listened?”

 

After a brief pause, Zuko lowered his eyes in pained concession and went back to keeping his son quietly occupied, while Iroh continued the story. “Ozai was angry that his own son had made it clear that such tactics, tactics that he had approved of before, were a betrayal of our own people. That now the generals _knew_ that Prince Zuko had more honor and compassion, important qualities for a leader of men, than Ozai himself had ever had or ever would. So the Fire Lord declared that Zuko's outburst had been an act of disrespect, which it had been against General Bujing. But then he used the ancient customs governing hosts and their guests—and Zuko had not qualified as a guest, because he had not been _invited_ to the war planning session—to declare _himself_ as the insulted party and the Agni Kai opponent. A fact that he ordered to be deliberately kept from his son for the next day and a half, throughout all the preparations for the Agni Kai, until it was too late.”

 

All the agonized frustration Iroh had undergone back then came out in his voice as he said through gritted teeth, “I tried _three times_ to get through to Zuko and let him know what his father had done and planned to do, but I could never get him alone; there were always witnesses in the room with us! And disobeying Ozai’s direct order would have had me charged with _treason,_ and still not stopped the Agni Kai. I tried to contact the High Fire Sage as well, to have him declare the match invalid and disallowed, but Ozai must have gotten to the Sages first; my every attempt was blocked. I did not see the High Fire Sage until he was standing in his accustomed spot at the Agni Kai arena, while I was in the audience.

 

“Helpless to do anything else, I watched Zuko walk proudly out to the proper spot on the grand arena, garbed in the traditional clothing for an Agni Kai; from head to toe, he was a young warrior ready and willing to duel another for not just his honor, but the lives and honor of our nation’s soldiers. I watched him stop and take the traditional waiting pose, turned away from where his opponent would be and down on one knee to pray to Agni while awaiting the High Fire Sage’s signal to proceed.

 

“And while Zuko’s back was turned, I saw Fire Lord Ozai walk out to the opposing side of the arena, take his place there and nod to the High Fire Sage. The gong sounded, and both opponents stood up and turned around… and Zuko got his first look at his true opponent. And everyone there could _see_ that he’d had no idea before then; his surprise at first, and then his dismay and increasing fear were visible even to the audience! In less than five seconds, he--”

 

“ ** _Enough_**!” Zuko abruptly shouted, looking anguished and frankly a little green. “You don’t have to say any more, Uncle; they get the idea!” He lifted his head to face them, his teeth bared in challenge even while tears welled up in his eyes. “I ended up like **_this_** , okay?!” as his hand flashed upwards to gesture at his scar.

 

“ _Ah, ah, **uwaahhh**_!” Teiji started wailing, catching his father’s distress. The Avatar and both the Water Tribe children shifted uneasily in their seats, the girl Katara getting halfway up with her arms outstretched towards father and son before sitting down again, her face showing her combined dismay, sympathy and indecision.

 

“Nephew, why don’t you take your son for a walk to calm him down,” Iroh suggested. “I will call to you when we are finished.”

 

Zuko turned that same angry tearful glare on him, sputtering, “But I—you--”

 

“I am determined to inform our new allies of exactly how cruel, devious and utterly merciless Ozai can be,” Iroh said firmly. “They must know that before they face him in battle, if they are to have any hope of surviving even the first five seconds against him.”

 

"Actually, I really think we get the idea already!" the Avatar said with a rather desperate wave of his hands.

 

"Yeah; normally I'd want to hear every detail of information on the enemy, but I think you can skip to the end this time," the boy Sokka said, looking both grim... and sympathetic towards Zuko's obvious anguish, which Iroh noted with secret satisfaction. "If he did _that_ to his own son, then there's no doubt in my mind that he'd the _definition_ of cruel, devious and utterly merciless. And that if we don’t throw at him everything we can possibly use against him, then we and _everyone_ we care about are dead."

 

"Very well, then," Iroh said with a somber nod, seeming to agree with reluctance when in fact he was secretly grateful that they'd begged him to stop. He knew how much Zuko had been anguished by just the recounting so far; he would rather have respected the prince’s privacy and let him tell the story if he ever felt the need or desire to do so, but it was vital to change these children’s collective impression of his nephew as soon as possible.  

 

Zuko rocked and murmured Teiji to settle him down again as Iroh continued, "To skip to the end: when the Agni Kai was over, Zuko lay on the arena ground horribly burned, while Ozai strode off without even a backward glance. He was bedridden for a week, suffering a high fever from infection, as the palace healers did what they could to at least save his eye since they could not prevent scarring. And even before I was sure my nephew would _live_ instead of dying in that sickbed, Fire Lord Ozai decreed that because of his conduct, Prince Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation. And his banishment would be lifted only under one condition: if he captured the Avatar. Only then would he be able to return home and restore his honor."

 

"So _that's_ why you were so persistent in hunting us!" Katara said with a gasp, her eyes wide in realization.

 

"Correct. We have not seen the Fire Nation for over two and a half years; instead we have been to virtually every other corner of the world, searching through lands and among people who have been mostly hostile to our people and the prince's quest. Up until we received that letter a few days ago, Zuko's every waking moment was focused on hunting down and capturing the Avatar, in order to please his father; no matter the risk to his health, his ship, and even his very life."

 

" _Two-and-a-half years of hunting the Avatar_? But that's... I don't get it! _Why_?" the Avatar demanded of Zuko. "If he treated you that terribly, if he's that horrible a human being… if he’s _evil_ , then why would you have ever wanted to go back to him at all?!"

 

Zuko could not face the young airbender's eyes, his expression almost sick as he stared at the ground. “You don’t understand… he was my _father_!”

 

Aang slowly shook his head, his expression disgusted. “When we first met, you said I knew nothing of fathers, since I was raised by monks. If being raised by a father means having to blindly obey and want to go back to anyone who did _that_ to me, then I’m glad I never had one!”

 

The Avatar’s emphatic statement caused Katara to look at him in startled dismay, but Iroh wasn’t concerned by that; his primary goal had been accomplished. Even if they did not fully _trust_ him yet, each person in the Avatar’s group felt _sympathy_ towards his nephew now, and that would go a long way towards their acceptance.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After Zuko’s uncle finished talking about what a monster the Fire Lord was, for treating his own son like dirty slush just because the guy _wasn’t_ a monster, they discussed what they were going to do next. It turned out that the firebenders hoped to hitch a ride with them for the next couple hundred miles, until they reached a secret camp of Fire Nation war deserters and rebels that Iroh knew about.  

 

It was kind-of hard to believe that Iroh had secretly been rooting for the Avatar the whole time his nephew had been hunting for them, but Zuko kept swearing that he’d had no idea until after receiving that horrible letter and he and his uncle had a long, _long_ talk right afterwards. And while Sokka still didn’t entirely trust the prince, he really seemed to be one of those guys who was just slush at lying to people; his emotions were written all over his face. Anyway, when Iroh said there was a secret camp of Fire Nation deserters who would help them, that happened to be just a day’s flight to the north, Sokka decided they could give them a lift that far; no fighting or capturing would be happening so long as they had the baby with them.

 

Anyway, that secret camp of Fire folks would become the Fire family’s new home, while Sokka and his sister escorted Aang up to the North Pole to get his waterbending training. Then once the Avatar had mastered waterbending and earthbending, he’d know where to find his teachers for mastering firebending too.

 

But before they took off, there were a couple things to be done first. Zuko still wanted a letter signed by the Avatar stating that his son wasn’t a witch-child, and the nuns at the abbey had a table and writing supplies they could use. So Aang went inside the abbey with them to figure out what the letter would say, how to phrase it so everyone would be reassured without making Aang outright lie on a document. Meanwhile Katara discussed an idea she’d had with Sokka, and they drew diagrams in the dirt until they agreed on what would work, before she asked another nun for the supplies they would need.

 

The nun was happy to help when she heard the reason behind the request, and brought out a couple of tanned leather hides while Katara dug her sewing kit out of her pack. Sokka got out his knife as well, and he had just finished cutting the last of the strips that Katara needed when Prince Zuko came wandering back out, without his boy and with a faintly troubled expression. “I think my uncle is using Teiji’s cuteness to help him _flirt_ with _nuns_ … What are you doing?”

 

Katara had a couple of tough leatherworking pins in her mouth while she was sewing the strips together, so Sokka answered for her. “We’re making a harness and tether for your kid, to put on him while we’re flying, so you don’t have to keep an iron grip on him every second that we're in the air.”

 

“A what?!” The prince’s surprise turned into outrage in no time flat. “You are not going to put a–a _leash_ on my son, and treat him as no better than an _animal_! Think of his feelings! Think of his human dignity!”

 

Without even looking up from what he was doing, Sokka pointed upwards briefly as he said, “Think of him falling from a thousand feet straight up.”

 

After a moment of silence, Prince Zuko picked up part of the harness that had already been finished, and tugged on it experimentally. “You think this is going to be strong enough?”

 

They got the leather harness made in less than an hour, and by the time they’d fitted it onto Teiji, Iroh had come up with a really official-sounding document about Teiji that Aang could sign without lying. Fifteen minutes later they had everyone and their packs in the saddle, Teiji had a fresh diaper on as well as the new harness, the other end of the tether was tied securely to the saddle, and Aang was saying “Appa, yip yip!”

 

The sky bison surged into the air, and Sokka got a close look at how well firebenders and babies fare when flying. The kid just loved it, clearly thought flying was the greatest thing since sea prunes; he was squealing and clapping his hands, which made Aang grin when he glanced back at them. Zuko looked a little nervous at first, but he got over it when he saw how relaxed Katara and Sokka were and how much Teiji was enjoying it.

 

Iroh, on the other hand… the elder was looking a little green around the gills, though he murmured that he’d be fine when Zuko started fussing over him, asking if they should ask the Avatar to fly slower. But it was reassuring, seeing how much Zuko cared about his elder as well as his kid; just the way any Water Tribe guy would be. Sokka found himself thinking that if that secret camp was really where Iroh had said it would be, if their most persistent enemies had really just become their allies, then the war was halfway won already!

 

But then he remembered, and he said aloud in his surprise, “We’re putting the rudder ahead of the sail!”

 

“We’re doing _what_?” Zuko said, giving him a wary look, as if he’d just started spouting nonsense.

 

“He means, we’re doing something out of order and it might not work right as a result,” Katara explained for the non-Water-Tribe people. “But what’s out of order, Sokka?”

 

“We’re bringing these guys along, treating them like allies already, when we haven’t heard all their conditions for making an alliance! Zuko said there were three, but we only heard two of them before we got sidetracked by all that talk of kirin and how rotten the Fire Lord is and stuff.”

 

Zuko looked startled, and then he facepalmed as he groaned, “I can’t _believe_ we forgot! It’s so incredibly important…”

 

Sokka gestured impatiently at him. “So, what’s the third condition?”

 

“That once the war is over, the longer-standing Fire Nation colonies are allowed to remain where they are, instead of dismantled and all their citizens sent back to the home islands,” Zuko told them. “All the colonies that have been in existence for more than twenty-five years; long enough for people to not just be born there, but grow up and start raising their own children on the same soil.”

 

Iroh added solemnly, “We realize that all those lands were taken unjustly from the Earth Kingdom, and we’re agreed that the newer colonies should be dismantled and the land turned back over to the rightful owner. But the older colonies are full of families with innocent children who have done no wrong, and even whose fathers and mothers have never acted in aggression against the Earth Kingdom all their lives. Those families do not deserve to have their homes ripped from them in turn, to be punished for crimes their ancestors committed; that would not be justice.”

 

Katara frowned at them both as she protested, “But that’s supposed to be Earth Kingdom land! There should be earthbenders on it, not firebenders!”

 

“There are earthbenders living on it now, right alongside firebenders!” Zuko retorted. One of my crewmen, Sheng, is an earthbender from the colonies!”

 

“Say **_what_**?!” That got not only Sokka and Katara looking at him, that got Aang setting the reins down and floating back to the saddle and gape at Zuko. “Are you serious?”

 

“Of course I’m serious! Sheng is an earthbender, and a loyal Fire Nation citizen! He told me that his mother and little brother are firebenders, so yes, it’s possible to have families with more than one bending type! Sheng used his bending once to save my son from deadly danger; I won’t repay his courage and loyalty by letting his family be ripped apart or their home taken from them!”

 

“Families of more than one bending type,” Katara repeated with an odd smile on her face, one that made Sokka feel suspicious for some reason. Then she lost the smile in favor of a more sober look. “You’re right; it wouldn’t be justice to pull families like that apart by splitting them between the two nations, or make them lose their homes either.”

 

“It’s wrong to punish people for stuff that they didn’t do themselves. So we can agree to that condition too,” was all Aang said at first, before getting to his feet to get back to the reins.

 

“Aang,” Sokka felt obliged to warn him, “You’re going to have a _really hard time_ getting anyone in the Earth Kingdom to agree to that term for alliance. They’re all going to insist on getting their land back; that everything goes back to the way it was before the war.”

 

But Aang just got a really sad look in his eyes as he said quietly, “They’ll just have to accept it… accept that there are some things that just can never go back to the way they were before.”

 

He didn’t have to say it; everyone _knew_ he was talking about the Air Nomads. Even the Fire folks knew it; both of them were looking not just sad but a little guilty as well.

 

But then Zuko’s kid babbled some cute baby nonsense at him and tossed his stuffed panda up into the air, and Aang had to dive for it before it went over the side, and the sad mood was broken. Zuko held onto the toy while Katara started digging into her pack for supplies to make another and even tinier harness, as their newly enlarged group headed northward to find even more allies.

 

.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Author's Notes: So, how many people just knew that something horrible was about to happen to Zuko as soon as they read that line about him having a really good day? ;-)
> 
> We saw Aang impersonators only one time in the series, among the refugees waiting to get into Ba Sing Se in the episode “The Serpent’s Pass”, but it stands to reason that impersonating had started sometime before then. The scene with Zuko meeting the impersonator that had triggered a false Avatar sighting, is my reasoning as to why Jun encountered his ship ship south of Pohuai stronghold and the ruins of Taku, instead of north of there. It was probably just an error on the episode writer’s part, but I still decided to come up with a reason for the shirshu following Katara's scent to pass the herbalist’s home along the way. (As to why Katara's scent was at the herbalists' home when she never saw the old lady in the pertinent episode, check out my drabble "Plum Blossoms for Flavoring" in the drabble collection "Avatar Drabbles: Missing Moments.")


	10. Denounced

 

Up until seven years ago, Jeong Jeong had been a general in the Fire Nation Army. He had risen through the ranks for a variety of reasons, not least of which were his firebending mastery and his tactical skills; the general had been renowned for coming up with battle plans that resulted in victories with minimal casualties for the forces under his command. Many of those plans had also been designed to outfox, avoid or capture instead of kill the enemy forces, for minimal loss of life on both sides… though not all those plans had been approved for implementing, when they were reviewed in the Fire Lord’s war room.

 

Seven years ago, Fire Lord Azulon had died quite suddenly; the popular opinion was that he’d died of heartbreak, when his grandson Prince Lu Ten had died in the Siege of Ba Sing Se and his older son Crown Prince Iroh had abruptly shown himself to be a weak-hearted failure, by abandoning the siege instead of avenging the loss of his own son. Azulon’s last will and testament, changed only the day before his death, passed the crown to his second son Prince Ozai.

 

Just days after Ozai ascended to the throne, the differences in his war policy became evident at the very first war strategy meeting he convened among the top military staff. Ozai favored plans that _annihilated_ the enemy, regardless of the loss of life for his own forces; Jeong Jeong’s plan for the conquest of the city of Wúgū had been disregarded, and General Bujing’s plan—which would result in a victory but with brutal losses for both sides—had been approved.

 

After only three war strategy meetings under Ozai, Jeong Jeong had abruptly deserted, declaring that his disgust with the Fire Nation Army’s callous brutality and wanton destruction in the Earth Kingdom had finally reached a breaking point. He’d left a scathing ‘letter of resignation’ burned into the door of his headquarters in characters a quarter-inch deep, that condemned Fire Lord Ozai’s policies as well as the military high command that carried them out.

 

As expected, when news of the high-level desertion reached him, Fire Lord Ozai had not taken it well. The Fire Lord’s top ‘death squad’, elite paramilitary forces that answered to no one but the wearer of the Fire Crown, had been sent after the ex-general within the hour.

 

Jeong Jeong was not the first officer to desert the Fire Nation Army; others had also done so in decades past, sometimes taking entire platoons of loyal soldiers with them. But he was the first officer to actually survive the desertion by more than a week; the first to avoid the fate that had befallen so many others, that of being paraded back to the Fire Nation capital—sometimes the entire charred corpse being held up suspended between spears, sometimes just the head—as an example to the populace of what happened to such cowardly traitors to the nation.

 

Instead of parading Jeong Jeong’s corpse back to the capital, the entire death squad had been found scattered between Yu Dao and Pohuai and in various stages of decomposition, with a note addressed to the Fire Lord left pinned to the forehead of the freshest corpse. The note said that Jeong Jeong was looking forward to the other death squads being sent after him, because he considered such coldly brutal killers to be a blight on humanity and he’d be pleased to personally execute the rest of them.  

 

Enraged, Fire Lord Ozai sent out not one but _three_ death squads all at once. …And those bodies were never recovered.

 

No more death squads had been sent after that, but wanted posters with Jeong Jeong’s likeness had been put up on nearly every street corner, with a reward offered for whoever turned him in, dead or alive. But even nearly a decade later, Jeong Jeong still lived, albeit in hiding; never showing his face in public, though rumors of sightings abounded throughout all the colonies and even the outermost Home Islands.

 

And now there are additional rumors, that the former general has created a secret base full of other deserters from the army; someplace those ex-soldiers can go to after leaving everyone and everything of their old lives behind. “A sanctuary for cowards” is how some sneeringly refer to it, though others just look thoughtful (and a few even appear wistful if they think no one’s looking just then.)

 

Of course, some people were quick to capitalize on the idea of the ex-general welcoming other deserters, seeing that as a way to get close enough to Jeong Jeong that they can capture or kill him for Fire Lord Ozai and/or the reward money. But whether they are disguised members of the death squads, professional bounty hunters or just greedy amateurs, none of them ever come back successful—and a few of them just never come back. The ones who continue to live in frustration will often ask themselves, _how does he always **know**_?

 

The answer lies in a conversation that took place in Jeong Jeong’s first hideout after deserting, seven years ago:

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The ground opened up in the middle of the tent floor and a gnarled old man with wild hair popped up out of the hole, cackling, “If you’ve got the firewhiskey, I’ve got the gennamite!”

 

After he relaxed from his instinctive bending stance, Jeong Jeong growled at King Bumi, “Have you ever heard of an amazing concept called **_doors_**? Look, I’ve got one right there!” as he pointed at the tent entrance. “People go in and out of other people’s homes through them! And if they’re _polite_ people, they even announce themselves _before_ coming in!”

 

“Don’t waste your breath,” the waterbending master Pakku grumbled as he crawled up out of the hole Bumi had made in the floor, and brushed off his robes with an expression of distaste. “Bumi hasn’t been conventional or polite to anyone since Avatar Kyoshi’s days.”

 

Jeong Jeong reminded Pakku with a raised eyebrow, “Avatar Kyoshi died over two hundred years ago; before even Bumi was born!”

 

“My point precisely.”

 

Instead of being insulted, Bumi just grinned even wider and declared, “Pakku, you always say the sweetest things!” as he reached over to give a friendly whack on the other bending master’s back

 

The waterbender smoothly dodged and flowed away from Bumi’s hand before the blow could land, and then frowned at Jeong Jeong as he said, “Rather than talk about useless pleasantries, I’d rather talk about the main reason why he and I left our cities to track you down; to find out why you left your post! With a new Fire Lord on the throne, particularly someone as cruel as Ozai is rumored to be, we need eyes and ears in the war room more than ever!”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Jeong Jeong growled. “But you’ll have to make do with Piandao, or the gardener and the scullery boy that were planted on the palace staff; see if they can get new postings that will let them get closer to the meetings. I left only because I knew what was coming next; Ozai was about to demand that I resign my commission. By leaving before he could do that, my resignation letter would actually have some impact; denouncing him afterwards would have been dismissed by all as just bitterness over losing my rank.”

 

“Oh, you’re mistaken, youngster!” Bumi said with a snaggle-toothed grin. “Ozai wasn’t about to ask for your resignation!”

 

“With all due respect, Grand Lotus: I was _there_ , I saw the differences between how he treated me and my strategies and how he regarded bloodthirsty bastards like Bujing, and I’m telling you--”

 

“Ozai was about to have you _disappeared_ ,” as Bumi abruptly lost his maniacal grin, to look very grim indeed. “Just as he’s already done for Lords Lianmin and Renci from his father’s privy council.”

 

“Lianmin and Renci?” Jeong Jeong echoed in surprise. “I’d heard Lord Lianmin had left for his annual vacation to Ember Island…”

 

Bumi shook his head. “His house is empty, but no one on any of the docks saw him leave the capitol, and his vacation home on Ember Island is still boarded up. As for Renci, he’s supposedly come down with a severe illness, but no doctor has been summoned to treat him—and that doesn’t explain why his lion-dog’s bloody corpse was seen sprawled by the door to his home in the early hours of the morning, just before some nameless men who were _not_ Renci’s servants hauled it away.”

 

Both Jeong Jeong and Pakku stared at Bumi in dismay, as Pakku blurted out, “Is that what was in the message you got yesterday morning? You said it was an update from your council on gennamite exports!”

 

“Oh, it had that too! And business for this season had better pick up soon, or I’ll have to put my Flopsy on an all-he-can-eat diet again. But anyway, it’s just as well that you got out when you did, Jeong. There’s a death squad out after you now, of course, but we already picked off three of them for you on our way here. Now that you’re out, let’s see if we can use your example to encourage more officers to desert the Fire Nation Army. And as for getting another member of the White Lotus in on the war council, I’m thinking of recruiting the former prince and general Iroh for that.”

 

Pakku started choking on his own tongue, while Jeong Jeong sputtered, “ _Iroh_? The Dragon of the West? You want to try to convert _the Dragon of the West_ into a force for peace and restoring balance to the world?! You really do have boulders for brains—and for balls, too!”

 

“Now, gentlemen,” Bumi tut-tutted, “you really need to have more faith in your Grand Lotus—and in my sources. I have it on good authority from a certain guru that Iroh has journeyed to the Spirit World, to try to bring back his dead son--and the experience has definitely changed him. The Dragon has lost his fire for conquest, so now he’s just perfect for the plans I have for him.”

 

Jeong Jeong stared at him as he asked skeptically, “You’re really going to try to recruit him as a spy, the same way you recruited me? Just pop up inside his home unannounced and declare, ‘Come join the White Lotus; we have dumplings!’ When he uses his lightning to _incinerate_ you on the spot, don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

 

Bumi’s grin got impossibly wider and more maniacal. “Ohhh, I’m going to do better than that! You would not believe the plans I have for Iroh—which is why I’m not going to tell you about them yet. You’ll find out what they are soon enough. In the meantime, let’s get back to you and your situation.”

 

“You want to promote my example to encourage other officers to desert?” Jeong Jeong asked. “I can arrange for strategic ‘sightings’ from time to time, to prove that it’s possible to survive the decision.”

 

“And more than that. I want you to start building an army of deserters!”

 

“You’re serious? …What am I saying, you’re _never_ serious…”

 

“Of course not! If I was a serious man, I’d be in my grave already! But what you’re really asking is whether this is a solid strategy. And I believe it will be, with the aid of the White Lotus. We all know that once word gets out that you’ll welcome other deserters to join you, Ozai will try to slip in spies that way to slit your throat. But you’ll only welcome those deserters that have been thoroughly investigated and verified by members of the White Lotus first. Not that we’ll make them members before sending them to you; that will be your decision, after you’ve observed them for a long period of time and decided whether or not they can be trusted with our secret. But our people can verify their intentions with a little cactus-juice-aided interrogation, and give them tokens of approval if they pass, or possibly a trip to the nearest graveyard if they don’t. Then we'll either send word to you that they’re coming, or send word of where they can be found and brought to your base.”

 

After only a moment’s pause, Jeong Jeong nodded agreement. “That sounds like a good strategy. Particularly the part about sending word to me ahead of their arrival; I’ve never liked surprises.”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

No, Jeong Jeong did **_not_** like surprises. Which is one reason why he was **not** happy when his camp had surprise visitors.

 

It started when one of the camp sentries suddenly burst into his hut to breathlessly announce, “The Avatar has arrived just outside our camp! It’s him, and no mistake; he’s riding a sky bison, and he proved he can airbend too! But you’ll **_never_** believe who he converted to our cause, just before he came to find us!” And when he walked to the small clearing where the Avatar and his sky bison were waiting, one of the first people he saw was the former crown prince and former general Iroh, chuckling while rolling a lotus tile over his knuckles.

 

“So the Avatar has converted you to join our cause, eh?” he sarcastically asked the current Grand Lotus, who’d been given that mantle by Bumi himself at virtually the same time that he’d been recruited to the Order. (It had taken two more clandestine meetings of the White Lotus Masters before Jeong had finally lost his conviction that Bumi had been not just crazy but _doused_ on cactus juice when he’d made that decision.)

 

“It was the simplest explanation,” Iroh said with a shrug, before turning to gesture to his left, where a scarred teenager was waiting with a tense look and a baby in his arms. “May I present to you my nephew Zuko, and my grandson Teiji?”

 

“Grandson?” the deserter general blurted out as both his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He knew Prince Lu Ten had died without offspring, and Prince Zuko was hardly old enough to—wasn’t he? Agni’s ashes, the last time he’d glimpsed the royal family while attending a meeting at the palace, Prince Zuko had been a little lisping boy still trailing after his mother! Jeong had heard about the Agni Kai three years ago, so that explained the scar on his face, but when had that little boy turned into such a strapping young man?! And a father with his own child to care for…

 

Jeong Jeong suddenly felt very old. (And he didn’t like that either.)

 

“By adoption,” Iroh explained as his nephew stiffly bowed greetings, though that didn’t make any difference to the way Jeong was feeling at that moment. “And of course, the Avatar, Aang of the Air Nomads, and his companions Sokka and Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.”

 

“It is good to meet the Avatar, returned to the world at long last,” Jeong said with a bow to the boy wearing Air Nomad clothes. “And to meet all those with him who are committed to ending the war of conquest and restoring balance to the world.”

 

“Pleased to meet you too!” the Avatar piped up, grinning and bowing. The gesture he made as he did so was of a style that Jeong Jeong had only ever seen before in old scrolls, namely Sozin’s instructions for the armed forces on how to detect airbender refugees trying to hide in the common populace.

 

“Well, come on in to our camp; we can talk over some tea and refreshments,” Jeong said with a sigh, knowing that was expected of him. The newcomers agreed, and as they walked the quarter-mile through the woods to the base camp, he glanced sidelong at them repeatedly, watching how they walked and carried themselves, to get an idea of their abilities and attitudes.

 

Prince Zuko was certainly a firebender, but he had a swordman’s habits as well; he knew how to use those blades he was carrying. And oddly, right now as he walked among strangers, his moves said he would be more inclined to go for those swords than his bending if trouble broke out. And the young man was definitely braced for trouble, or more accurately, trouble for that baby in his arms; Jeong was sure there was a story involved in his adoption, and not a happy one.

 

The Water Tribe boy—what was his name? Sokka? A nonbender, and just a fledgling warrior, but he showed promise. He moved more like a hunter than a soldier, but he knew where his weapons were, and he was keeping just out of arm’s reach of the closest member of his escort—good situational awareness, and given the other boy he was traveling with, such wariness was to be encouraged rather than frowned upon.

 

The Water Tribe girl—he’d have to ask her name again later—was clearly a waterbender, but also clearly self-trained; her movements were sloppy compared to those of Pakku and the few other waterbenders Jeong Jeong had met through the Order of the White Lotus. And she too was wary of the soldiers surrounding her, but unlike her fellow tribesman, apparently not at all wary of Iroh or his nephew; the deserter general wondered how long they’d been allies. If anything, the girl was worried _for_ them instead of about them—ah, that glance told him that her worry was centered mostly on the baby, rather than the royals themselves. But she apparently thought the baby was safe enough in the prince’s arms, so what was the story there?

 

The Avatar was definitely an airbender to the core; he could have modeled for the illustrations and descriptions of stance and movement in those old scrolls Fire Lord Sozin had ordered distributed. And he might have had some waterbending training as well... but he clearly hadn’t mastered it yet, and even more clearly knew nothing of Earth or Fire yet; his moves lacked the stern discipline needed for mastering those elements. And he was far, far too trusting of total strangers! Jeong Jeong could almost _feel_ the next ambush for the Avatar lurking just over the horizon, waiting for this child to blithely skip right into it. And this was the being the world leaders were pinning all their hopes on?! Unless this boy wised up to the ways of the world as well as learned the discipline necessary to master all the elements, and did so very **_very_** quickly, they were all _doomed_ …

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko’s head still felt _naked_ and _wrong_ without the weight and comforting soft sweep of his phoenix-plume against his scalp, but right then that was the least of his concerns; he had his heart in his throat the entire time they were walking into Jeong Jeong's camp of deserters. Uncle had told him time and again while they were planning their escape from the ship that they would all be safe with Jeong Jeong, including Teiji; that he'd met the former Fire Nation general enough times to know that he was not a superstitious man, and that he would never allow anyone to harm a child in his encampment. But Zuko knew too well that there was only so much any leader could do to control the people under him, without resorting to extreme and cruel tactics that no true leader would ever countenance. Jeong Jeong might not have any issue with Teiji's eyes, but what about the other deserters in his camp? Were they all sensible men like Lieutenant Jee and Colonel Shinu, or were there superstitious fools like Tadao who would make trouble for them?

 

Once they were all sitting down with tea (substandard compared to Uncle's) and rice balls (bland and a little stale--Zuko realized abruptly that he was really going to miss Chu Si's cooking), Uncle launched into the tale of how they'd found Teiji, while Zuko sat there with his son and pretended he was perfectly relaxed, not at all on the brink of grabbing for his swords and fighting his way back to the sky bison if necessary. But judging by the shrewd look Jeong Jeong gave him, the former general wasn't fooled by his pose, even if he wasn't inclined to call him on it.

 

Even with glossing over some Teiji-related events, like the disastrous encounter with the pirates, it still took nearly twenty minutes for Iroh to get to the point when they had received that terrible scroll from Fath--from _Ozai_ , Zuko harshly corrected himself as his uncle continued, "We realized then that our charade of pretending to capture the Avatar could no longer be continued; that to stay aboard the _Wani_ any longer would be to invite disaster in the form of assassins sent by Ozai, if not a mutiny from those members of the crew that are still loyal to the Fire Lord over their good captain and prince."

 

Zuko distinctly saw Sokka mouthing 'charade, huh?' to his sister, who rolled her eyes in response, and felt ashamed of himself. Uncle shouldn't have to twist the truth like that to make his nephew look better in front of strangers... If only it really had been all a charade for him; if only he hadn't been so blindly loyal for so long, to a man who was really a monster under the skin! If only he'd realized the truth as soon as he'd been burned and banished, and then _helped_ the Avatar right from their first meeting instead of hunting and trying to capture him...

 

But then if he had, he would never have found his son. If he hadn't been chasing after that remembered glimpse of the sky bison, that night after rescuing Uncle... if he hadn't passed near that ravine at just the right moment, hadn't heard the sound of a baby crying where no child should be, then Teiji would have _starved to death_ next to the corpse of his mother. Zuko shuddered all over at the thought, and hugged Teiji just a little bit tighter in response.

 

After Uncle explained how they'd found and formally allied themselves with the Avatar, he finished with, "And now we are here. Jeong Jeong, my nephew and I must rely on you now, to provide us with a place to stay and raise Teiji together until the Avatar is ready to train in firebending."

 

"And you shall have it," Jeong Jeong said as he nodded before standing up. To Zuko's surprise, he _didn't_ ask for a look at Teiji's eyes, like everyone else who'd ever heard their story had done. Instead, he turned to a small squad of his troops and ordered, "Empty out the smaller storage hut, and put all the contents under tarpaulins for now; that hut will be a temporary dwelling for the royals and their child, until a better hut can be built for them."

 

To Zuko's relief, the four men just saluted and left to follow his orders, without any protests about housing a witch-child. There had been some curious glances thrown his and Teiji's way from the troops who'd been present to hear the story, but he sensed no fear or hostility, and none of them protested at all! Maybe Teiji really would be safe here...

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Aang was glad that Zuko and his uncle and baby had a safe place to stay, and even gladder that they were allies now, and had introduced him to an entire group of Fire Nation people who were against the war! It was really good to know that Fire Sage Shyu wasn't just an exception; that there were still lots of good people like his old friend Kuzon in the Fire Nation today.

 

...Well, okay, these guys were technically all in exile from the Fire Nation, but it still proved his point that there were good people in every nation!   In the few times he'd argued with Sokka and Katara since coming out of the iceberg, their argument about people of the Fire Nation had been pretty much the worst. Since their mother had been killed by Fire Nation soldiers and their father had left them both to go to aid the Earth Kingdom against the Fire Nation, Sokka and Katara both tended to think that the whole Fire Nation was full of horrible monsters who liked to burn people alive for fun.

 

Aang had to admit, except for Fire Sage Shyu, pretty much all the Fire Nation people they'd met up to now had been horrible to them. But hopefully becoming allies with Zuko and his family, and meeting Jeong Jeong and his troops, was showing Sokka and Katara how wrong they had been to think that everyone in the Fire Nation was the same way.

 

But now that Zuko and his family had a safe place to stay, it was probably time for Aang and his friends to get going again, on their way to the Northern Water Tribe for waterbending training... though Aang sort-of hoped that Jeong Jong would invite him and his friends to stay for dinner first. Katara's cooking was all right, but she hardly ever used the spices Aang was more used to, and they kept having the same dishes over and over again. It would be great if the soldiers here put on a feast for them like the Kyoshi Islanders had done, but with some of the spicy dishes that he'd eaten with his old friend Kuzon way back when!

 

"Thank you for your generosity, Jeong Jeong," Iroh said to the other old guy as he stood up too, and gave a sweeping bow. "It will be good to be assured of a roof over our heads tonight! And we shall need only a few easily procurable supplies in order to make it a suitable home for us and little Teiji. Nephew, perhaps you could stay here with Teiji and see to setting up our few belongings in the hut once it's ready for us, while I walk to the nearby colony to pick up a few more things."

 

Because he was sitting so close to Zuko, only Aang heard him mutter under his breath "Any excuse for shopping" before saying aloud, "Uncle, it would probably be better for everyone if you didn't go into the colony today, or any time soon. What if you're recognized there? Maybe there aren't any wanted posters of you yet, but there will be soon enough once they figure out what we've done. And we don't want anyone who sees those posters to remember seeing your face in town, and giving Fath--Ozai's death squads a place to start searching from."

 

"But that's only if they see his face," spoke up a friendly guy who had introduced himself to Aang earlier as Chey, a former captain in the Fire Nation army and an explosives expert, and the second guy to successfully desert after the general's example. "They won't see it if he puts on a festival mask first, right? And I'll bet there are merchants selling dozens of masks right now, for the Fire Days Festival that's going on all week."

 

"Fire Days Festival?" as Aang perked his ears, suddenly hopeful. A festival would be even better than just a fancy dinner!

 

"Sure! They put up a poster for it on a signpost just outside of town," Chey explained cheerfully. "It said they're going to have all kinds of entertainment; jugglers, magicians, puppet shows, firebending masters, and lots of cultural exhibits to remind the colonists of life back in the Fire Nation! Me and a couple other guys were going to get masks and go there later, see a show or two and maybe get some fire flakes."

 

Zuko perked up almost despite himself as he echoed 'fire flakes?', but Aang wasn't really paying attention to him just then; instead he was turning to Sokka and Katara. "Guys, you have to come with me to the festival!" he told them excitedly. "You need to see this, to see that Fire Nation people like to relax and have fun too, just like people everywhere else in the world!"

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he listened to the Avatar persuade his companions to go to the festival with him. At first the Water Tribe people demurred, said they really had to get going, and Zuko silently agreed with them; the Avatar needed to learn all the elements as fast as he could, and he needed to **_not_** get caught right in the middle of a colony!   But then _Uncle_ joined Aang in persuading them, said they needed to see that the Fire Nation could produce beauty and happiness as well as war and aggression, and Zuko silently groaned in resignation. Uncle Iroh could talk anyone into anything if he had a mind to...

 

And not even five minutes later, five people were setting off for the colony; Uncle to do some shopping (and enjoy the festival food and sights; that went without saying), Jeong Jeong's soldier Chey to show him where to find the shops that carried what he wanted, and the Avatar and his friends to just have fun. Iroh saw Zuko's look as they departed and said cheerfully, "Don't worry so, nephew! We'll all put on masks, so no one will know who we really are. We'll be careful to not draw attention to ourselves... and yes, I'll bring you back some fire flakes too!"

 

"Okay," Zuko muttered with some embarrassment, and then he helped Teiji wave to his grandfather as they departed.

 

Soon after they were gone, Jeong Jeong's men came back to say they'd emptied out the storage hut, so Zuko took Teiji and their saddlebags of supplies to see about making the hut into something resembling a home for them.   It didn’t take long to lay out the bedrolls and the few possessions they’d been able to bring with them: a few changes of clothes for each, the portraits Cheung had made for them, a cleaning & oiling kit for his dao sword, the heart-shaped stone Mai had given him, a few toys for Teiji, and Uncle’s favorite tea set.

 

He couldn’t help giving an unhappy sigh as he looked at all that was left of their old lives, and the unfamiliar straw walls of what would be their home now. He suddenly found himself desperately missing not just the sight of the Fire Nation banner that hung on the wall of his cabin, but the old steel bulkheads that the banner hung on. Then he snorted in self-derision as he thought that if someone had told him three years ago—even just three months ago—that someday he’d be feeling _homesick_ for a rusted old hulk of a ship…

 

But it wasn’t just the ship itself that he missed; it was his crew. Lieutenant Jee, Ming-Hoa, Joben, Taozu, Jiro, Tetsuko, Sheng… Cinders, he even missed that superstitious fool Tadao a little! And three months ago he would never have believed he’d miss any of them, either. But since he’d adopted Teiji, the crew’s attitude towards him had really changed. They’d respected him more, actually respecting _him_ instead of just his rank, and a few of them even seemed to genuinely like him!   It made him feel sick, cold and heavy inside, having to lie to them and leave them behind like that…

 

Then Teiji burbled at him while waving the wooden dragon, the incense burner that he had repurposed as his son’s first toy. Zuko dredged up a smile for his son, and took the toy to make it fly through the air and breathe fire for Teiji as the toddler squealed and clapped with delight.

 

At least he could still make the small wisps of flame needed to make it appear as if the tiny dragon was breathing fire; that was probably what Teiji liked best about this toy. But he really, really hoped his uncle was right about what had happened to his firebending, and how to fix it! Even as he played with his son, his mind kept drifting back to that conversation he’d had with Uncle Iroh, right after receiving Fath— _Ozai’s_ letter telling him to kill Teiji and send the baby’s head back to the capital as proof…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Uncle Iroh had insisted on brewing tea before discussing the letter and their options, so Zuko waited to talk while his uncle brewed in his quarters. But he didn’t just stand there while waiting; instead he went through his and Teiji’s belongings, deciding which items he could afford to take with him while fleeing with Teiji into the Earth Kingdom, and what they’d have to leave behind. There was only so much weight he could carry along with his son while walking for days on end. And the more stuff he carried in a pack, the more of an attractive target they’d make to bandits on the roads. So they’d have to make do with only the bare essentials, a few clothes and his weapons… and one or two toys; he had to have _something_ for amusing and entertaining his son as they traveled…

 

He had a carrysack packed and resting on the bed by the time his uncle came back with the tea tray. Iroh raised an eyebrow at the sight, but didn’t tell him to unpack it and put everything back; instead, he only gestured for Zuko to sit down at the table with him.

 

Uncle poured the tea, and they both sipped at the hot beverage, though Zuko could have been drinking engine oil just then and not noticed; he was still too agitated about the letter, preoccupied with thoughts of fleeing for his son's life. Then after that first sip, Iroh set his cup down and said flatly, “Prince Zuko, now that you’ve read that letter, and his cursed instructions to you… do you agree with me that Fire Lord Ozai—yes, your father, and also my younger brother—that Ozai is a monster in human skin?”

 

Once he could think again, Zuko thought numbly, _Is this what it’s like, to be hit by lightning?_ Because the jolt of shock that had run though him at his uncle’s words, felt like it had burned a channel from his ears and brain down his spine and clear through to his legs and feet. In that second, if someone were to physically pick him up and move his paralyzed body aside, he was sure they’d find scorch marks on the deck plate.

 

After he got his lungs to working again, and then his lips, and finally—it took two tries—his vocal cords, Zuko whispered, “Yes.”

 

Iroh gave a grim smile. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to say that for nearly three years now; since the day he cornered you into facing him in the Agni Kai. And now that we are agreed on that: do you also agree with me that any man who would be so cruel and heartless as to tell _his own son_ to commit an atrocity like _this_ ," as he pulled the scroll out of his robs and slapped it down on the low table, glaring at the offending document like it was a spider-snake that had somehow slithered aboard their ship, "can not possibly possess the wisdom and compassion that a good ruler should have for his people, and therefore should not be reigning over an entire nation?"

 

Zuko _froze_ , both inside and out. He couldn't move a muscle as he stared at his uncle, and he suddenly felt so cold inside, colder than he'd been since they'd left the South Pole behind. His uncle was talking about deposing the Fire Lord. He was talking about _High Treason_.

 

And he was _right_. Zuko knew in his cold aching bones that Iroh was right, and that his father—that _Ozai_ should not be holding the throne.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and bowed his head as he let it out. "H-he should not." ...There, that made him a traitor along with Iroh. No matter what happened next, he would not let his uncle suffer alone.

 

Uncle Iroh nodded and gave a grim half-smile of approval at his words. But oddly, the smile disappeared entirely when Zuko said next, "You should be Fire Lord, instead."

 

His uncle shook his head. "There was a time when I would have demanded the crown, as my birthright... but those days are past, and now I know better." He picked up his teacup again as he continued, "If ever I sit on the Fire Throne, Prince Zuko, it will only be as a temporary regent, until _you_ are ready to resume your royal duties," as he gave him a meaningful look.

 

"M-me?" Zuko blurted out, "But Uncle, I _can't_ be Fire Lord! I... I've lost my bending!"

 

Iroh almost dropped his teacup. Then he set it carefully down on the table again as he demanded, "Explain."

 

"I wish I could... all I can think of is that this is a sign from Agni, that he took my bending away--well, most of it; there's still just a little left--but it's gone precisely _because_ there's no way I could challenge Father without it. Agni decided to remove any doubt that I'm unfit for the throne," Zuko said miserably.

 

"And when did you lose your bending, _if_ it's truly lost?" Iroh said with a raised eyebrow. Because that was a fine fire-shield you erected the other day, when we warned Zhao away from trying to take Teiji from us."

 

"I honestly don't know just when it happened; all I know is that just before the hawk arrived, I was warming up for the sparring session, when... all I could produce was _this_!" as he turned his hand palm up. He willed for a blaze of fire fully twelve inches high, but all he produced was a small puff of flame better suited to topping a candle wick, no bigger than a firebending toddler's first efforts.

 

"Hmmm..." Iroh eyed the flame in his hand, and then raised a bushy eyebrow as he asked, "Tell me, nephew, what were you thinking just before you started the warm-up?"

 

Bewildered by the question, Zuko answered honestly, "I was thinking that it was a really good day; the ship’s running great, Teiji’s behaving well and had even learned some new words this morning, and we have another opportunity to capture the Avatar! ...Or we _had_ an opportunity," he finished dejectedly. The only way that he'd be able to capture that airbender now, would be if the Avatar saw what had become of his bending and just _laughed_ himself to death.

 

"I see. Well, see how long you can maintain that bit of flame, while I think about what may be causing it," Uncle said as he got up and began pacing around the room. Zuko obediently maintained the candle's worth of flame while watching his uncle, afraid to hope...

 

And then Iroh stopped right in front of the porthole, and scowled at whatever he saw out on the horizon. "Zhao's ship is coming back... probably to steal Teiji from us."

 

" ** _What_**?!" as Zuko leaped to his feet--and as the wisp of flame in his hand abruptly shot up and out to become a blazing torch nearly three feet high, scorching the ceiling of his cabin.

 

He stared at the fire, dumfounded, even as his uncle immediately said with a wry grin, "I lied. And you did exactly what I expected, at the idea of anyone threatening your son. Your bending isn't gone, nephew; you have all the potential you've ever had, possibly even more than before. But you are going to have to learn a new method of fueling your firebending, now that you have learned how to be _happy_ instead of constantly angry."

 

His uncle came back to sit at the tea table as he said, "But instructing you on how to do that can wait for a bit longer; there are other matters to discuss with you first. For now, just believe me when I say that you do indeed possess enough firebending to be considered a contender for the throne. And in order to take the throne from Ozai, I believe our best option is to ally ourselves with the Avatar."

 

“To ally… ** _what?!_** ”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko was abruptly drawn from his reverie by a wet blatting sound, and an unmistakable odor; Teiji had just soiled his diaper again. Zuko sighed as he set down the toy dragon and dug out the diaper-changing supplies, while muttering under his breath, "Still don't know what's causing the diarrhea, either. At least you're not dehydrating..."

 

He quickly cleaned up his son's butt and put a new diaper on him, and then grimaced as he dropped the soiled one into the small sack of other soiled diapers waiting to be washed. He was **_not_** looking forward to that, but he'd better do it soon; they were down to only three clean diapers.

 

Maybe Uncle Iroh could get this deserter camp's laundry personnel to take on the extra work of washing diapers? Uncle had said he couldn’t use his status as the Grand Lotus—which still boggled Zuko’s mind; the idea that his uncle was actually the leader of a secret organization that had members in all the nations! But he’d said it had to stay secret still, because most of the people in this camp weren’t members of the organization, just ordinary soldiers and sailors who’d decided to leave their old lives behind forever rather than kill anyone on the Fire Lord’s orders. But even if his uncle couldn’t use his secret rank on the people here, and Zuko had been _strongly advised_ against trying to use his royal rank _at all_ , maybe Iroh could use that golden tongue of his to persuade them to take on the extra duty anyway…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

"Here ya go; masks for everyone!" Chey said cheerfully after he walked up from the colony to the small clearing just off the main road where the Avatar, General Iroh and the Water Tribe kids were waiting, and showed them what he'd brought them.

 

Everyone thanked Chey as the kids quickly put on their festival masks, and then the Water Tribe girl switched the Avatar's mask with her kinsman's mask for some reason. General Iroh chuckled as he tied his mask in place, and then he gestured grandly down the hill towards the village. "Come, my new friends; good food and great fun await!"

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

But not even two hours later, Chey stood lined up with the Avatar and General Iroh in front of a scowling Jeong Jeong and face-palming Prince Zuko, as they tried to explain just what had gone wrong. "It was sort-of my fault," the Avatar explained sheepishly. "See, this firebending entertainer took Katara on stage to be his assistant for a stunt, but when he said he was losing control of his fire-dragon, I kind-of panicked when I thought she'd be burned, and I blew it away with airbending. That's when the crowd recognized me, and we started running. And when we ran right past General Iroh and Chey while they were shopping, I didn't think, I just told them to run because the guards were after us..."

 

"It perhaps would have been wiser to feign complete ignorance of both the Avatar and the meaning of his words, and then quickly find new masks to wear," Iroh acknowledged with a heavy sigh. "But instead, first Chey and then I began running as well. Which, I must regretfully admit, let everyone know that the Avatar has gathered more companions than the two Water Tribe people already known."

 

"But we still got away, thanks to the Avatar's sky bison!" Chey insisted. "And I blew up a stack of fireworks to keep them too busy to even try to follow us. We didn't fly straight in this direction, either, so the camp should still be safe."

 

"But in the time it took for all five of us to climb aboard Appa, our pursuers came in too close. Just as the sky bison took to the air again, one firebender scored a lucky hit on the underside of his tail," the general said with regret.

 

"It's not a really bad burn, but Appa's in pain right now, and flying just make it worse; he shouldn't be flying for a few days until it heals," the Avatar said earnestly, finishing with a sheepish, "So... is it okay if we stay here with you guys until he's better?"

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The deserter camp didn’t have another hut to spare for them, but Aang told them it wasn’t a problem; they had a tent and supplies for setting up their own camp if necessary. Then he walked back to the clearing outside the camp where Appa was lying on his side, groaning in pain while Katara was applying burn salve to the burn on the underside of his tail. (That was one nice thing about having a camp full of Fire Nation people as allies; they always had plenty of burn salve handy.) “They said we can stay here until he heals, but we’ll have to find some way to feed him ourselves; they don’t keep any komodo-rhinos or hippo-cows here, so they don’t have any hay for Appa to eat,” Aang informed them with a concerned frown while stroking his buddy’s broad nose to comfort him.

 

“That’s going to be a problem, if he can’t fly off to forage for himself like usual,” Sokka agreed.

 

“Maybe we can get another soldier to go into town and buy some hay for us?” Katara asked hopefully. “We still have some money left in that purse the nuns at the abbey gave us.”

 

“Save your coins for later; I will see to it that some hay is purchased for your sky bison,” someone said right behind Aang, and he spun around in surprise to see General Iroh there. How did somebody that old and fat move so silently? The general continued, “After all, he would likely not have been hit and burned if you had not waited that extra few seconds for me to climb aboard before leaving.”

 

“Thanks, General,” Sokka said somewhat warily; Aang knew he still didn’t trust the firebenders, even though they were allies now.

 

“Please, call me Iroh,” the elder urged, before reaching forward to stroke Appa’s nose too. “Just rest and heal, noble steed of the sky; we’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

 

And sure enough, before the sun had set the general had arranged for a soldier to buy for them not only three bales of hay, but a bushel of cabbages and a bushel of apples as well. And when Appa showed his gratitude at having a whole bushel of apples by happily licking Iroh, even when he was covered from head to knees in bison slobber, the general just chuckled and said he’d been meaning to take a bath anyway. In Aang’s considered opinion, if that didn’t _prove_ that Iroh was a good guy, then nothing ever would!

 

The soldiers let them eat dinner with them, too; the food wasn’t the really tasty stuff that they would have had at the festival, but it was still a nice change from their usual dinners (though when Katara started to frown, Aang hastened to let her know that her cooking was still great! It was just nice to have something really different from time to time.)

 

It was a little odd, but not in a bad way, that for once Aang wasn’t the center of attention at the feast. He still got a lot of curious looks aimed at him, but more people were paying attention to Prince Zuko’s baby, Teiji, and all the antics that the prince was pulling while trying to persuade the baby to eat his vegetables. “Yum yum, Teiji! Don’t you like bok choy? Come on, open the barn doors so the komodo-rhino can pull the cart in… Come on, open your mouth; it’s good for you, I promise! Don’t you want to grow up big and strong? Uh oh, Teiji, the spoon is fighting me! See? The food’s trying to get away from you now; you’d better eat it before it escapes!”

 

Katara leaned her chin on her hand and watched with clear amusement, while Sokka leaned over and whispered to Aang with a wry grin, “Hard to believe that’s the same angry jerk who chased us clear from the South Pole, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Aang agreed, though his smile was a little sad; he was remembering a few of the elders at the temple, the ones in charge of the little Zephyrs, doing stuff like that to persuade the new babies they’d just gotten from the nuns at the Western and Eastern Air Temples to eat their food. He still missed the temples, and Monk Gyatso especially, _so much_ …

 

But remembering the good times and being sad that they were gone forever, wasn’t helping him any… and besides, he didn’t want Katara to start worrying about him again.   Instead of looking back, he had to look forward, to what had to be done in the future. He had to master all the elements, fight the Fire Lord and end the war! And while they were here for a few days to give Appa time to rest and heal, while he was in a camp with firebending masters, this was a good time to start learning firebending.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Zuko was a little disappointed in the camp of former soldiers, though he didn’t say so aloud. Back aboard his ship, he’d had men practically lining up for the privilege of minding Teiji in the nursery, but here only two people had approached him and volunteered to watch Teiji for a few hours so he could do other things, like train with his uncle in firebending. Still, two helpers in minding Teiji were better than none.

 

Provided the helpers were actually good with children in general and Teiji in particular, that is. He closely questioned the two volunteers on what they knew about childcare, as well as questioned Jeong Jeong about their characters and backgrounds. And then, since his uncle was far more diplomatic, he let Uncle Iroh tell the first volunteer, the ex-captain Chey, that while they greatly appreciated the offer, they weren’t ready to leave little Teiji alone with him yet; they’d need to supervise the first few attempts at minding.

 

Chey had a good heart, and at one time he’d reportedly been a damn good captain, taking better care of his men than most officers who possessed a similar fascination and talent with explosives. But just before deserting six years ago, his brains had been scrambled by a subordinate’s poorly set explosive going off at close range. And even six years later, as Zuko was quietly advised by another ex-soldier, “Well, he gets a little _vague_ sometimes.” Chey’s attention would unexpectedly wander, he’d forget to watch what he was saying around others, and… Well, he tried hard and everyone in camp respected that, but he couldn’t be trusted with critical duties or critical information anymore, and Zuko just couldn’t trust him to take care of his active and danger-prone toddler for hours on end.

 

He had better fortune with the second volunteer, Komori, a good-natured man in his early twenties who had been a corporal in the 92nd Division, before deciding to desert rather than participate in burning down an abbey full of unarmed monks. Komori said he’d never heard of any superstition about mismatching eyes until Zuko himself brought it up, but even if he did believe in witches, a toddler was clearly too young to be a threat to anybody. He also said he had a little brother and little sister back in Yushu Colony, and had not just played with them but fed and changed diapers on both of them when they’d been toddlers and he’d been a responsible pre-teen.

 

Jeong Jeong vouched for the man’s character, and quietly added that Komori was one of the twelve men in camp that he’d deemed not just trustworthy but discreet enough to become a White Lotus member. Then Komori proved he still knew how to change diapers efficiently, when Teiji made a mess in his pants while the personal interview was still going on. (And the former corporal recommended his mother’s remedy of ash bananas mashed with rice, for stopping the diarrhea.)

 

So the next morning, Komori came to their little hut to mind Teiji for the better part of the day. Zuko made sure he knew where the teething toys and clean diapers were, and the blanket Teiji liked to curl up with for naps. “The only other toys we brought with us are the stuffed panda that he’s holding right now, and this wooden dragon here—actually, it’s an incense burner, but it really does work better as a toy. Teiji loves it when you hold it and make it fly through the air for him, and breathe fire—but only very small flames, and stay out of his reach when you do! He’s still too young to learn fire safety,” Zuko explained.

 

Komori gave a wry smile as he said, “I’m afraid making the dragon breathe fire will have to wait until you get back, your highness; I’m not a firebender.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine, just make it fly for him then. And he can play with it himself too, but if he starts teething on the wings, give him one of the teething toys instead, right away.” Then he picked up Teiji for one last hug and kiss, murmuring, “You be good for Komori, okay, little man? I’ll be back later, after your naptime.”

 

Then he left them alone in the hut as he walked out, shivering a little in the cold morning air since he wore only his sleeveless workout tunic and pants, and the paper-thin layer of what Uncle called ‘peach fuzz’ now starting to grow on his scalp was doing nothing to keep his head warm. But he’d be warmed up soon enough, he reminded himself as he headed for where his uncle was waiting for him to come and resume his training.

 

Yesterday evening Uncle had picked a clearing far outside the camp perimeter as their training spot, saying he wanted privacy for their lessons and little to no chance of them being disturbed. Considering how embarrassing it would be if anyone found out that a prince of the Fire Nation was currently having trouble with even basic firebending, Zuko was more than ready to agree to keep the place a secret and make sure no one followed him there. But just before he arrived, he heard his uncle’s voice just past the last stand of trees in the way, saying firmly, “The boy is not yet ready!”

 

But when he stepped into the clearing and looked around, all he saw was his uncle, sitting in a meditating position with his eyes closed and a frown on his face; there was nobody else in sight. He cocked his head and listened carefully, but he didn’t hear footfalls of anybody running away, either. “Who were you talking to, Uncle? And what am I not ready for yet?”

 

Uncle Iroh opened his eyes and blinked at him for a moment, before giving him an uneasy smile. “Actually, nephew, I wasn’t referring to you just then… and now isn’t really the time to discuss the matter. We’re here to help you learn a better fuel for your firebending. And after you’ve demonstrated to me once more than you have mastered all the basics, we will begin your _true_ advanced training—including some moves and techniques that are known to no one else in the Fire Nation! But first, sit with me,” as he gestured to a spot directly in front of him.

 

As Zuko sat down, his uncle said conversationally, “Tell me, nephew… what do you think is different about you now, compared to two months ago?”

 

Zuko shrugged; wasn’t the answer obvious? “I’m a father now.”

 

Iroh nodded. “Yes, quite true. And what else?”

 

“...I’m not hunting the Avatar anymore?”

 

“Also correct. And you are also not frowning, or scowling, or grimacing, or making other expressions of anger and frustration nearly every waking moment. Instead, nephew, you are _smiling_ ; certainlynot at every moment, but several times a day. Oh, you still have your bad moods now and then, as do I. But before you became Teiji’s father, I sometimes worried that you had completely forgotten how to _enjoy_ life, instead of raging against it. But you are enjoying it now, except for the last two days... and except for this change's effect on your firebending.”

 

“So what happened when you mentioned Zhao back in my cabin wasn't just some weird accident? I really can only firebend when I’m angry? But Uncle, you’re always smiling and laughing and stuff, and you’re a master at firebending!”

 

“Because the source of my fire is _not_ rage or anger. Yes, I know what your first firebending instructors taught you; that our fire is fueled by aggression, anger, rage, and the more destructive emotions. That is what the firebending instructors have been teaching, not just to the royal family but all over our country, since Sozin’s reign… and they have all been _wrong_. And doing great damage to our country with their teachings,” as he frowned heavily. “Not to mention the rest of the world…”

 

“So what fuels your fire, Uncle?”

 

“Life itself, nephew; Life, and joy in living it. Fire burns, yes, but it also warms; on a cold night, people huddle around the fire for its warmth, and even watch the dancing flames with pleasure. And there is the greatest fire of all, Agni,” as he looked and gestured skywards. “Without the sun, our world would die in cold and darkness. Fire is Life, Zuko! You’ve heard me say it before, but perhaps now you are ready to truly understand.”

 

Iroh continued, “Less than two months ago, your mission in life--what drove your every action and indeed every waking moment--was to hunt the Avatar. And behind that mission… great anger. Anger you had a right to feel, nephew, for your father had treated you most cruelly, _betrayed_ the love and loyalty you had for him, then cast you out and gave you a nearly impossible task to do before returning. But you refused to admit it, for to do so would have been to lose all hope of going home again… and without that hope, you would likely have never survived those years of forced exile. Nearly three full years of hardship that would have broken lesser men, Zuko, I can assure you.

 

“Then Teiji entered your life… and began teaching you that there were more important things than Ozai’s approval. I suggested when we first found him that the kirin-spirit had chosen you to raise him because you could teach him that there is no shame in having mismatched features, but I think that first, he is teaching _you_ that lesson. He has already taught you that it’s all right to show affection for someone, just as he taught all the crew that you are far more than just the ‘Royal Pain’ that they had called you while scorning your command.”

 

Zuko’s heart painfully twisted at the mention of the crew they’d had to leave behind, but his uncle wasn’t finished yet. “Rather than directly teach you, he has helped you teach yourself, that Ozai’s style of parenting is not only harsh but cruel and completely wrong for children. And Teiji has helped you learn that you have worth beyond what Ozai thinks of you; beyond your rank and title of Prince of the Fire Nation. That you have worth far beyond your firebending, regardless of the Fire Sages’ insistence on the ruler of the nation being a master of firebending! But I assure you again, your current difficulties in bending will pass as soon as you realize your new focus, and make that the fuel for your fire.”

 

Iroh reached into the small sack he’d brought and pulled out a candle, lit it and set it in front of Zuko. “Now, meditate. Start with the usual, feel the candle flame’s heart and breathe with it; then focus on your inner fire. See where it comes from, or rather, where it came from.”

 

Zuko obediently assumed the basic meditation position, closed his eyes, and sensed the candle’s fire; found the tiny ‘heartbeat’ in the candle’s flame, and slowly matched it with his own heartbeat and breathing. He knew without opening his eyes that the candle flame was now rising and falling in time with his steady breathing. Then he looked inwards, into his own fire, his own heart…

 

Uncle was right. The rage, the anger and self-hatred that had ruled him for so long was mostly gone, just a few painful lumps remaining of what had been a towering mountain. And he absolutely didn’t want it all back, even at the cost of his firebending. But… but how could he make his newfound happiness and the reason for it, the fuel for his fire? He couldn’t quite figure it out, couldn’t see how…

 

His uncle spoke softly. “Zuko, open your eyes.”

 

He opened them, and gasped. His uncle had backed up and was now sitting ten feet away but facing him, and fire-sculpting. One of the most advanced techniques of firebending, something that Zuko had tried but never been able to do before; not just creating and directing the flame but _shaping_ it, into fancy figures limited only by will and imagination. But as with every other aspect of firebending, his uncle was a master. And now Iroh sat with his hands curving and twisting, generating a ball of fire that grew limbs, and then a head, and then features on the head…and it was _Teiji_! Incredible mastery; Uncle even cooled one small patch of fire a little bit, to give the flame-toddler different-colored eyes!

 

The fire-Teiji waved to him, and then began running and bouncing through the air between them, dancing in a circle while soundlessly laughing with joy…

 

And he _knew_. He _understood_.

 

He started laughing and crying at the same time, as he reached out his hands…

 

He reached out with his chi, he _pushed_ with his heart, and great gouts of flame rose from his hands to become a roughly shaped human figure, a fire-Zuko that picked up and embraced fire-Teiji, surrounding his son with warmth and affection.

 

He heard Uncle say as if from a great distance, “Well done, nephew!” And then a recognizable fire-Iroh sprang into existence beside the pair, crackling / chuckling as he reached in to tickle Teiji’s chin. Fire-Zuko lifted an arm from around his son to embrace fire-Iroh as well, drawing them into a circle….

 

Fire is Life. Fire is Loyalty. Fire is Love.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After breakfast the next morning, Aang went looking for Iroh, but the guy in their hut minding the baby said that both the royals had gone off somewhere to train, but he didn’t know where, only that they wouldn’t be back for hours. Since he was only going to be here for a few days, rather than waste time looking for them or waiting for them to come back, Aang went to the hut of the other guy that he’d been told was a firebending master, and asked Jeong Jeong to train him in firebending.

 

At first Jeong Jeong flat-out refused, and was both weird and mean about it; first he compared Aang to a fish in the river (the weird part), and then he accused Aang of not having the discipline to master even water or earth, let alone fire. But then, in the middle of his ranting… something changed; Aang wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but next thing he knew, Jeong Jeong was agreeing, “Yes, I will teach you.” Even if he didn’t look at all happy about it. But hey, an unhappy teacher was better than no teacher at all!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

It was early afternoon by the time Iroh and his sweat-drenched, exhausted but happily grinning nephew returned to camp, with training for the day well accomplished. He had begun the training by drilling Zuko in all the basic firebending moves, and at almost every turn, the prince had been surprised and delighted to find out that his fire was even more powerful than it had ever been before. Though Iroh had not been surprised at all; unlike Azula, Zuko had never been an aggressive child, always more ready to protect and defend others than attack them, so his nature had been at odds with the palace trainer’s teachings from the very beginning.

 

After declaring the basics mastered once more, they’d taken a short break, so Zuko could guzzle water from the waterskin Iroh had brought with him and so Iroh could tell him about the city of the Sun Warriors, how he had been taught the Dancing Dragon moves, and _who_ he had performed the moves for before being judged worthy to learn more.

 

Zuko had been overjoyed to learn that there were still dragons in existence, and that his uncle hadn’t slain the last one after all! He’d gone so far as to wonder if they could persuade the Avatar to fly them to the city of the Sun Warriors, so he could show his son the true first firebenders. Iroh had to regretfully tell him that would have to wait until after they’d won the war; until after they’d defeated the Fire Lord and put an end to all the decrees Sozin had made that had resulted in the slaughter of so many dragons, and the skies over their homeland were safe for them to return once more. But in the meantime, Zuko was ready to learn the moves of the Dancing Dragon.

 

He’d drilled his nephew in the Dancing Dragon and other techniques for hours… including the technique that no other person in existence knew, the technique that Iroh had created himself for redirecting lightning. Now that Zuko was opposing his father and sister, it was imperative that he learn the technique immediately, so it would be ingrained in him long before he had to face them and the lightning they wielded.

 

“What about making my own lightning? Am I ready to learn that too?” Zuko had asked eagerly.

 

Iroh had shaken his head as he replied, “Possibly, but I won’t be teaching you that today. For two reasons, the first and greatest being that there is no _quiet_ way to practice lightning-bending. The explosion of a lightning-strike will draw the attention of anyone within hearing range or who sees the flash of light, and our hosts’ existence depends heavily on _secrecy_.   We cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves or to them. Practicing lightning will have to wait until we have stormy weather, or better yet, until we have the opportunity to leave the camp and Teiji behind for a few days while we travel much deeper inland, far from any possible observers.”

 

Zuko had frowned, but nodded. “That makes sense… but you said that there are two reasons. What’s the other reason?”

 

“The second reason is that lightning is a pure expression of firebending, without aggression. It is not fueled by rage or emotion the way other firebending is, which is why some call lightning the cold-blooded fire. It is as precise as it is deadly, and to perform the technique requires peace of mind. And while you have made great progress in the last few weeks, nephew, I do not believe you are truly at peace with yourself yet,” as he had eyed his nephew knowingly. “Your decision to oppose your father and ally with the Avatar to end the war is too new, and too raw in your heart; you are still in turmoil inside.”

 

After looking at the ground in silence for a few moments, Zuko had reluctantly agreed. “I know you explained to me before we left about the need to restore balance to the world, and why it was so important that we work with the Avatar to overthrow my fath— _Ozai_ , but… it goes against everything I was taught since I was old enough to learn. Even things _you_ taught me, before you left for the Siege of Ba Sing Se!”

 

“Lessons I now regret teaching,” Iroh had agreed with a heavy sigh. “But I cannot change the past; all we can do now is look to the future, and the part we must play in shaping it. Now, let’s practice the technique for redirecting lightning again. You must learn this so thoroughly that it becomes automatic for you; there can be no hesitation in performing it, in the instant that you truly need it! Take your stance again…”

 

They’d drilled, and practiced, and continued practicing until Iroh saw the way Zuko’s muscles were starting to twitch under his skin and declared an end to training for the day, before he collapsed from exhaustion. But by that time Zuko had truly mastered the basics and the Dancing Dragon, and his technique for redirecting lightning appeared smooth and flawless. His nephew had a long way to go before he would be truly ready to face either Ozai or Azula in battle, but now he had at least a small chance of _surviving_ such an encounter.

 

So they returned to camp, tired but happy… or at least, Iroh was happy until he heard from Chey that the Avatar had started learning firebending under Jeong Jeong.

 

Chey thought that was _great_ news, but Iroh knew better. Casting a wary eye at where the Avatar was standing in horse stance on a river rock with his face turned towards the sun, the Grand Lotus strode past and into Jeong Jeong's hut, to demand of the other master, "Why are you teaching the Avatar firebending, when he hasn't even mastered waterbending yet? He's nowhere near ready to learn Fire!"

 

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Jeong Jeong growled, looking both angry and worried. "My first answer to him was No! But when _Avatar Roku_ manifests and then drags you into the Spirit World for a lecture, before demanding that you teach his current incarnation, how would you answer?"

 

"I would answer 'he's not ready'--and I did!" Iroh growled, glaring at the open tent door as if Avatar Roku would pop in through it to get the lecture _he_ deserved. Iroh really should have known that Roku wouldn't be satisfied with Iroh's answer, and would go after the only other firebending master handy--one who had never been to the Spirit World before, and would therefore be easier to dominate and intimidate into agreement. So impatient, demanding for the Avatar's current incarnation to learn what the boy was just not ready for... now he knew where Zuko got his impatience from!

 

On the other hand... it was an unavoidable fact that Sozin's Comet was due to return at the end of next summer, less than a year away. If the Avatar did not defeat and dethrone the Fire Lord before then, there was absolutely no doubt in Iroh's mind that Ozai would use the comet's return and its effect on all firebenders to wipe out another nation--likely the Northern Water Tribe since the Southern tribe was nearly wiped out already—as well as conquer what remained of the free world. And in order to have even the slightest chance of defeating Ozai before he destroyed the world as they knew it, the Avatar needed to learn all three remaining elements in less than a year.

 

There was also the fact that the Avatar, though still barely more than a child, had earned his tattoos signifying airbending mastery before the Air Nomads were wiped out, which meant he'd been twelve years old or even younger when he'd mastered his native element. Iroh knew the history of the last five Avatars, and none of them had achieved mastery of their native elements before their sixteenth birthday.

 

Aang was clearly a child prodigy when it came to bending. Perhaps he was so talented at it, that he really could master elements out of their proper sequence in the Avatar Cycle! So rather than override Jeong Jeong's authority and cease the Avatar's training in firebending, Iroh opted to just let the boy learn, and see what came of it.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Nothing good came of it.

 

Jeong Jeong tried his best to teach the Avatar the _discipline_ he would need for firebending, before teaching him how to firebend. But the student just did not master that lesson in time…

 

Returning from another private training session, Zuko and Iroh were just in time to see Aang on the riverbank a short distance ahead of them, playing with fire that he was clearly not in full control of. “Uh-oh,” Zuko muttered as Iroh frowned while reaching out a hand and his chi, seeking to control the flames with his own bending before they could spread out of control. But they were still thirty yards away, out of even a master’s firebending reach. They hurried closer…

But Katara reached Aang first, and got a careless wave of flame flung at her. They could hear her scream of fear and pain as it hit.

 

Sokka was nearby as well, and he went straight for the Avatar in a rage for the boy who’d burned his sister, but Zuko and Iroh had more experience with fire accidents and had their priorities straight. “Get her into the water to cool the burns, while I get the salve and bandages!” Iroh ordered his nephew as he left to run towards the larger supplies hut, where the camp kept their medical supplies.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

**_It Hurt_** _, Spirits, it hurt so much_! Katara instinctively ran away from Aang, but she couldn’t leave the pain behind.

 

Then instinct told her to go to the water; to the river running to her right. But as she veered in that direction, she looked up and saw— _firebender_! Prince Zuko was running up the riverbank, coming right at her, he would burn her even more! She cried out and veered away, into the forest, to start running blindly through the underbrush. She had to get away, had to hide—

 

But then the firebender crashed into the woods after her while shouting, “Don’t run, curse it, I’m trying to _help_!” And then he _caught_ her, hauling her back with his arms around her waist, and wouldn’t let go no matter how much she hit him and kicked him and screamed. All he did was grip her tighter, while shouting, “Stop fighting me, dammit! I said I’m trying to help!”

 

But then he did something _crazy,_ for a firebender; he carried her under his arm _right into the river_! Carried her in until he was waist-deep in the water, and then he set her down on her feet right in front of him, facing the current that was nearly chest-deep on her, while keeping his hands on her waist and bracing himself at her back. And all the while saying, “Cold water will help with your burns, cool them down and keep them from getting worse. You’re a waterbender; how can you not know that?! Just keep your hands in the water, until Uncle comes back with the burn salve. How about your face and chest; were you hit anywhere else?” as he abruptly turned her in his iron grip to look searchingly at her face—and Katara realized with a shock that he really did look concerned.

 

“I don’t see any redness, maybe your hands blocked it all… but if anything feels painful or even a little hot, duck it in the water right now, okay?” as he spun her around and braced himself at her back again. He continued talking, really almost babbling, “Don’t worry, I won’t let the current take you away. If your face got burned at all, then duck all the way under for thirty seconds at a time; you can hold your breath that long, right? And Uncle Iroh is on his way with the burn salve and bandages, I promise. You’ll be okay, Katana—no, there’s an _ar_ sound, it’s _Katara_ , right? Sorry about that, I’m not always good with names. Just keep everything that got burned in this _really cold_ water until Uncle gets back; he’ll be here soon…”

 

The water _was_ helping, cooling her poor hands… and Zuko was really helping her. She hadn’t thought he cared about anything but his son Teiji, but… he really was a good guy! Katara felt both immensely relieved, and ashamed of her earlier reaction. But rather than apologize for the way she’d acted before he got her into the water, she decided to focus on cooling the burns on her hands.

 

Her… her tingling hands. She looked down and her eyes widened as she saw her tingling, _glowing_ hands…

 

Zuko was still talking nervously behind her, first about how there should be minimal scarring and then about how sometimes there weren’t any scars at all, maybe she’d be one of the lucky ones, when she interrupted him while taking her hands out of the water. The glow faded as soon as they were out of the water, but “The burns… they’re all healed!”

 

“No, that’s just shock setting in. Don’t take them out of the water yet; put them back in until Uncle gets here!” Zuko ordered her. “Hands in the water, _now_!” She would have bristled at taking orders from him, but hearing the worry in his voice, Katara obediently put her hands back under while he continued, “For at least another couple of minutes, until he gets here, and then we’ll _both_ get out of this cursed cold water and get warm and dry again. Don’t worry, we know how to treat victims of shock, too!”

 

“They might actually be healed now,” someone spoke up unexpectedly from the right, and she turned to see Jeong Jeong standing on the riverbank, looking at them. “Show us your hands, child…”

 

Katara brought her hands up again, this time high enough that Zuko could see them as well. “They were glowing, just for a minute… and now they’re all healed!”

 

Zuko’s voice came over her shoulder in a hushed whisper. “How did you _do_ that?”

 

“You have healing abilities,” Jeong Jeong said simply while beckoning for them to come out of the water. Zuko promptly slung an arm around Katara’s waist and hauled her out with him, splashing through the water until they were standing dripping on the riverbank next to the firebending master. Under other circumstances, Katara would have objected to still being hauled around like a sack of rice when she wasn’t half-crazed from pain anymore, but right then she was still too stunned.

 

Jeong Jeong said as they got out of the river, “The great benders of the Water Tribes sometimes have this ability.” He looked sadly right in her eyes as he continued, “I've always wished I were blessed like you - free from this burning curse.”

 

“Burning curse?” Zuko muttered, but Katara ignored him as she reminded the elder, “But you're a great master! You have powers I'll never know.”

 

Jeong Jeong sighed sorrowfully, “Water brings healing and life. But fire brings only destruction and pain. It forces those of us burdened with its care to walk a razor's edge between humanity and savagery. Eventually, we are torn apart.”

 

Zuko cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. “Pardon me, but with all due respect to such a renowned firebending master, I--”

 

But whatever he’d been about to say was cut off, as the water they’d just climbed out of was blasted with gouts of flame.

 

Jeong Jeong instantly took a defensive bending stance, and broke the wave of flames that was about to wash over all three of them, while Katara spun around with Zuko to see who was attacking. Three Fire Nation riverboats were heading upstream, right for them!

 

Jeong Jeong said urgently, “Go get your friends or family, and flee!”

 

Katara didn’t need to be told twice. But as she ran, she heard Zuko start to speak, only to be cut off by Jeong Jeong’s harsh, “You have a son who needs you! _Run_ , and do not come back here or you will all be destroyed. Hurry!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

When Jeong Jeong had come up right after Aang had **_burned his sister_** and told them they had to leave, Sokka didn’t have to be told twice. He hadn’t wanted to stay in a camp full of firebenders anyway, because he’d had a hunch that something like this would happen! Now that Appa’s tail had been given a few days to heal, it was time to leave all this Fire Nation stuff behind and get back on course for the Northern Water Tribe. He knew that later on, Aang would need to come back here to learn when he was actually _ready_ to learn firebending, but Sokka would be perfectly happy if he didn’t see another firebender for the rest of his life.

 

He didn’t see which way Katara had gone, so he decided to focus on packing first, before tracking her down to see how badly she was hurt—particularly since he’d never learned how to treat burns, other than to pack them in snow, which they didn’t _have_ here dammit! But hopefully Katara could magic up some snow for herself with her bending…

 

He was still getting Appa saddled and loaded with their packs when Katara came back, soaking wet and out of breath but not screaming or crying anymore. “Katara! Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

 

“I’m fine, but we’ve got to get out of here! Where’s Aang?” she asked, looking even more anxious than he was.

 

It bothered him that, even when she’d been burned, Katara worried more about Aang than herself. Sokka wordlessly jerked his thumb in the direction of the old firebending master’s hut on the river island, where Aang had gone to hide in shame. Katara ran into the hut… and less than a minute later, Aang came running out of the hut, heading downriver at a fast clip.

 

Katara started to run after him, but Sokka sharply called her back. “Katara, let him go for now! You said we have to get out of here, right? So help me finish packing, and _then_ we’ll go after him!” Biting her lip in worry, Katara gave a jerky nod and complied.

 

It took them only a couple more minutes to get everything packed. And as they finished up, Sokka finally let his furious focus go beyond just _packing to leave_ , instead of _punching out every firebender in sight_ because his sister had been burned. That’s when he finally listened to the noises coming from all over the camp, and realized that they weren’t the only ones packing up and leaving in a hurry; _everybody_ was!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

When they’d received a quick tour of the camp right after their arrival, Iroh had been told that the larger supplies hut held all their bandages and other medical supplies, but he hadn’t looked inside to see how it was organized. When he’d opened the door to get the burn salve Katara needed, Iroh was _appalled_ at the sight of the hut’s contents, strewn here and there on ramshackle shelves; what a mess! If anyone had even _tried_ to organize this chaos in the last few months, he’d eat his own sandals. Who had Jeong Jeong appointed the camp’s quartermaster? Whoever it was, should be demoted immediately!

 

But instilling better discipline in camp would have to wait until later; Katara needed burn salve right now, so he started digging into the chaos, shoving crates and baskets this way and that, to find the medical supplies. It wasn’t until he had found the right basket and emerged back into the sunlight that he realized that there was chaos _outside_ the hut as well. Jeong Jeong’s troops were running into and then back out of their huts with packs tossed over their shoulders, scattering into the woods… Somebody had given the command to _Bug Out_!

 

Tucking the basket of medical supplies under his arm, Iroh sent a mental apology to the Water Tribe girl, hoping that Zuko would keep her calm and her burns in cold water for a few minutes longer; proper medical treatment would have to wait, because right now, securing his grandson and their few belongings took priority. He ran straight for their small hut on the other side of the camp…

 

But when he got there, the hut was empty; Teiji was gone! And only one of the saddlebags was left lying on the floor; the other saddlebag that held all the baby supplies was missing too.

 

Zuko came running up just moments later, water steaming off him as he ran, and when he saw the empty hut he went white as a funeral sheet. “ _Do **not** panic_ , Zuko,” Iroh said forcefully, while hurriedly clamping a hand over his mouth. “And don’t start shouting for your son! The bag with Teiji’s belongings is missing as well, and that means that our babysitter was thinking of the baby’s wellbeing while evacuating. Komori didn’t know if we would get back in time before whatever forces that are threatening the camp arrive, so he took the most responsible course of action, and took Teiji with him to safety.”

 

“But where’s safety?” Zuko hissed after removing Iroh’s hand, his eyes still wide and frantic. “Where are they now?!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_If the camp is discovered, do not fight; **run**. Do not engage your former brothers in arms unless there is no other choice. Keep your emergency bags packed and ready. If the word is given to Bug Out, then flee, scatter into the woods, get at least three hours’ walk away from camp, and hide for at least two days. Do not head for the fallback site until you are sure you won’t be followed there._

 

Those words had been drilled into Komori’s head when he’d first been welcomed into the camp of deserters, and he remembered them now, as he ran into the woods with two packs slung over his shoulder and somebody else’s baby in his arms… all the while grinning like an idiot and trying to pretend for the baby’s sake that this was just a new game for them to play. “Hide and seek, hide and seek! Okay, shhhh, we’re going to be sneaky-sneaky now,” he whispered with a strained smirk and a finger to his lips, as little Teiji giggled and mimicked him.

 

He hoped the baby would stay quiet long enough for them to get away. He hoped the royals had been told the location of the fallback site. And he really hoped that they wouldn’t set him _on fire_ when they finally did rendezvous, for essentially kidnapping their child… But that worry would have to wait for a while, maybe a very long while; first, he had to get both himself and the kid to somewhere safe.

 

Once he was out of sight of the camp, he paused to fish the map and compass out of his emergency pack and consider his options. When their old fallback site had been compromised last year by the Army deciding to build a new garrison close by, Jeong Jeong had selected a new fallback site. The new site was _not_ circled on anyone’s map, for security reasons, but Komori remembered where it was; four days’ travel further inland, east-by-southeast. …Make that six days’ travel, with a baby tagging along. And his emergency pack only had three days’ worth of travel rations for one; he was going to need more food, at least for the baby.

 

Right after Master Jeong Jeong had secretly inducted him into the Order of the White Lotus, he had introduced him to the colonial nearby who was also a member; an elder who helped in screening deserters to determine whether they could be trusted with the knowledge of Jeong Jeong’s operation. The man had a small potato-choke farm not far outside the colony’s gates, and Komori had no doubt he’d help them out with free food and supplies, if not for human decency’s sake, then because Teiji was the Grand Lotus’s adopted grandson.

 

Going so close to the colony would be especially risky now that the deserters’ camp was known to be more than just an idle tavern rumor; Komori didn’t think they’d ever made posters with his likeness on it, but any stranger would be viewed with extra suspicion for a while. But he had to think about the baby’s wellbeing; they needed food at the very least. And he could reduce the risk of being captured by laying low in the woods until after sunset, and sneaking up to the farm under cover of night.

 

If he waited until nightfall, hopefully all he’d have to worry about were any wolfbats and platypus-bears that might be in the forest between the camp and the colony. And with any luck, all the big animals were being spooked by all the noise currently being made by that battle on the river—he spared a moment for a quick prayer to Agni, for Master Jeong Jeong—and were already seeking quieter places to hunt and forage for a while. So, where to lay low until nightfall?

 

Laying low… that was a great idea! Last time he’d been on patrol on the western perimeter, he’d noted a ravine that had been formed by erosion over the decades. Not a really deep ravine, probably only ten feet deep, and the rope in his emergency pack was over twenty feet long. If he rappelled down with the baby, they could hide at the bottom of the ravine and be completely out of sight of anyone searching the forest, unless the searchers already knew of the ravine and just where to look.

 

Hiding in the ravine would mean heading _towards_ the sounds of battle instead of away from it, but their destination was still out of sight of the river, over twenty yards off the riverbank; they should be fine. “Come on, Teiji, let’s go find our hidey-hole. Remember, we’re being sneaky-sneaky,” Komori whispered as he checked the map once more before putting it away and setting out.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

“Jeong Jeong said you had no restraint,” Aang taunted Admiral Zhao before diving off the prow of the already-burning riverboat into the water. Then he used what little waterbending he and Katara had figured out, to help him swim upstream _fast_ ; in just a few seconds he was well out of a fireball’s reach. There was no way for Zhao to catch him now, not after setting fire to _all three_ of his own boats… He surfaced and shouted gleefully downstream, “Have a nice walk home!”

 

“Aang, come on!” Sokka shouted from close by, and he turned to see Appa there with Sokka and Katara on his back. He got out of the water and hopped aboard, and with a cheery “Yip yip!” they were in the air. Then he remembered, “Wait! Where's Jeong Jeong?”

 

“He disappeared,” Sokka said grimly. “They all did.”

 

“I hope little Teiji and his family will be all right,” Katara said worriedly. Perched on the saddle rim next to her, Momo chittered as if he was worried too.

 

“I could tell those Fire guys knew what they were doing when they evacuated. They probably have a fallback site already picked out, like our tribe has its summer camp back home,” Sokka reassured his sister, as Aang set Appa on course before floating back to the saddle. “If they stick together, they’ll be fine.”

 

Katara didn’t look convinced, but as Appa started gaining altitude, she almost visibly decided that such worrying wouldn’t do any good and it was time to focus on other things. Things like “Aang, you're burned!”

 

_Huh?_ Aang looked down to realize that she was right; his sleeve was all torn and burned, and the skin underneath was bright red. He hadn’t even noticed in all the excitement, but now that it had been pointed out to him, it started really hurting.

 

“Let me help you,” Katara urged as she opened her waterskin and wrapped some water around her hand.  And then the water started _glowing_ , white as moonlight!

 

She laid her hand and the glowing water over the worst burn, and it didn't just cool the skin... it healed it! "Wow! That's good water," was all Aang could think of to say.

 

Sokka was just as surprised as he was. "When did you learn how to do that?"

 

Katara just shrugged and smiled a little. "I guess I always knew."

 

"Oh..." and then Sokka's face drew into a scowl as he glared at her. "Well then, thanks for all the first aid over the years," he told her, with sarcasm nearly dripping from each word. "Like when I fell into the grease briar bramble, and that time I had--"

 

But whatever else Sokka was about to say got interrupted by Momo, who suddenly started chittering again while facing the area of forest that they'd left, with his ears perked forward--and then laying back in distress. "Huh? What is it, Momo?" Aang asked.

 

Sokka shut up as both he and Katara turned to face the flying lemur in concern. The lemur's sharp ears had saved their collective hides before, but what was he hearing now? Then they looked from Momo to Aang, who had plenty of experience in hearing things over the rush of the wind. Aang strained to listen...

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_Somebody_ would _die_ for this! His riverboats destroyed, his troops in disarray, and the Avatar had not only escaped him but turned him into a laughingstock in front of his men! Zhao was nearly blinded by humiliated rage as he shouted to the few men he could still see on the riverbanks, “Back to the colony, and _double-time all the way_!”

 

That would be at least an eight-mile run in full uniform, but nobody dared to question his order, let alone refuse to obey; they just turned and started running downriver. Zhao followed at a slower pace, seething with fury at every step.

 

In less than a minute his troops had all run far enough ahead that they were no longer in sight or within range of his hearing. Which was fine with Zhao; the last thing he wanted right now were to see their looks and or hear their whispers about what the Avatar had made him do...

 

_Somebody_ would _die_ for this!   He sent fireballs into the river as he walked, raising gouts of steam and occasional dead fish, but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his rage.

 

But then he stopped in his tracks, and turned to the east. Had he just heard…?

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

The next few days were going to be _miserable_ , Iroh could already tell; Zuko would be as impossible to live with as a komodo-rhino with a sore tooth—make that a half-dozen sore teeth, until he had Teiji back safely in his arms once more.

 

“We’ll rendezvous with the White Lotus agent I know of, who lives outside the colony gates, and we’ll send word through the entire network to be on the lookout for Komori and Teiji,” he whispered to his still-agitated nephew for the third time as they crept westward through the woods, on the lookout for Zhao’s troops… If that had indeed been Zhao in charge of the riverboats that Zuko had glimpsed before Jeong Jeong had ordered him to run.   “And if we’re lucky, the agent will also know the location of the new fallback site Jeong Jeong chose, so we—mmph!” as he was cut off, by Zuko’s hand being clapped over his mouth.

 

He didn’t protest or fight the sudden grip, because he knew what it meant; Zuko’s sharp ears had picked up something at the very edge of his hearing range, far beyond Iroh’s own aged and war-battered hearing. He stood silent, and waited—

 

And then was abruptly left standing there as Zuko charged ahead at top speed, running with absolutely no effort to keep quiet. His heart leaped into his throat as Iroh immediately started running as well, though his nephew outpaced him and left him behind in seconds.

 

Running as fast as he could, Iroh had no breath left for _cursing_ when he came into range, and finally heard what Zuko had heard…

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

This kid just _would not stop screaming_! Everything had been fine, Teiji had been giving every indication of enjoying their little forest adventure, until Komori had slid with him down into the ravine. And it hadn’t even been a rough landing at the bottom! But not five seconds after they’d landed down here, the baby had started crying, screaming with terror, and shouting “ _Mamaaa_! **_Dadaaa_!** ” with all the power in his tiny lungs. As well as frantically yanking on everything he could reach, and _biting_ Komori every time he tried to muffle him!

 

Komori had heard of some people having a fear of heights, but never a fear of _depths_ before! And not in little babies, either; what was _wrong_ with this kid? But right now that didn’t matter; what _mattered_ was getting back out of this ravine as fast as he could, before Teiji’s screaming drew the troops right to their location! “Okay, kid, we’re climbing back out, see? Just hang on, and we’ll be back up in the forest in no time, okay?” as he stuffed the baby back into his sling and started climbing up the rope he’d anchored and let down into the ravine before sliding down the side.

 

He did the fastest climb while burdened with gear that he’d ever done in his life; his old drill sergeant would have been proud of him for making it to the top in less than four seconds. “Okay, we’re up out of the hole now, so _please shut up_ ,” he hissed as he covered Teiji’s mouth again. Thankfully, this time the kid complied and stopped fighting him, though fat tears of misery were still trickling down his tiny cheeks.

 

Komori felt horrible at the sight of those anguished eyes, and he spared a little breath to mutter as he started running southwards along a fox-deer trail with his precious burden, “I’m really sorry about scaring you like that; I didn’t know you have a problem with ravines. And I’m sorry I can’t take you back to your daddy right now, but--” And then he cut himself off abruptly when a fireball cut _them_ off, blazing through the air not six feet in front of him. Oh ashes, it was the prince coming for them, thinking he’d outright kidnapped Teiji—

 

And then the firebender stepped around a tree and into view, and this was So Much Worse. Some officer Komori had never seen before, high-ranking judging by the gold on his collar… and that violent grin on the officer’s muttonchopped features promised Death for him and the baby both.

 

His spear was back at camp, because he couldn’t carry that, two packs and the baby as well; all Komori had for a weapon was his standard-issue belt knife. Even as he quickly set Teiji down behind him and drew it, he knew he was doomed… but he had to try!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_“FOR HONOAA **AAGGGH**!”_

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

It felt _good_ , venting some of his rage on that deserter. Zhao contemptuously kicked the still-smoking corpse aside, and looked down at the baby he’d been protecting. The screaming brat was trying to run away, but only got a few steps before it tripped over a tree root poking up in the trail and went sprawling hard.

 

He’d ordered entire families to be slaughtered by his troops more than once in his career, but Zhao had never personally killed a baby with his own bending before. He found himself hesitating…

 

Such hesitation was not worthy of an admiral favored by Fire Lord Ozai! And it would be a mercy killing anyway; the brat couldn’t possibly survive alone in the woods, so better a quick death by fire than a slow one from starvation and thirst. He’d give it his hottest fireball, to make death that much quicker.

 

He readied a fireball for the brat as it turned over where it was still sprawled, to look at him with wide, terrified eyes…

 

Eyes that were mismatched; one brown and one blue! Could this be Prince Zuko’s brat?

 

“ **TEIJIII!!”**

 

That was Zhao’s answer, and his only warning before another fireball hit him; just barely enough time to turn his own fireball into a fire-shield to block and absorb it. To _just barely_ absorb it, as the power of the raw chi behind the blast forced him back a few steps—and then before he could recover, the banished prince burst out of the undergrowth and leaped right over the brat to attack him!

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

_Kill Zhao kill him he hurt my baby tried to kill my boy **KILL HIM FIRST!**_

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Only two months ago, Zhao had faced Prince Zuko in an Agni Kai. He’d known exactly what he’d been facing then; an arrogant brat, a teenager who had far more bluster than skill, and had no stomach for killing.

 

That was then. For Zuko, things have changed a lot since then. He’d become a _father_. A father whose son was screaming in pain and terror…

 

Zhao abruptly realized that this time, he was facing a _demon_. A demon, because it was impossible for so much sheer fury to be contained in a stripling youth’s form! Zuko came at him with fire burning nearly _white-hot_ around his fists, and blows coming at him so fast and hard that the older man, a firebending master, was instantly forced on the defensive. There was no chance for him to go on the offensive and attack back; he was far too busy just trying to stay alive.

 

Only two months ago, lying flat on the ground with a burning fist hovering inches above his head, Zhao had taunted Zuko with a hissed, “Do it!” But even then, he’d known that the prince would not.

 

This time, even though he was still on his feet, Zhao sang a very different tune. “No! Stop!” as he frantically backpedaled away from the raging prince. “I didn’t mean—Stop! I-I surrender! I surAAGCK!” as the fire-demon got through his defenses and _pounced_ on him—

 

And shoved a white-hot flaming dagger straight down his throat.

 

His pharynx burned out first, Zhao could not scream his agony, as his world ended in fire.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

They’d directed Appa to follow the sounds of a baby screaming, but the forest was too dense here for the sky bison to land; Aang grabbed his staff, handed the reins to Sokka and dived off to find the source of the terrified screaming while they landed Appa on the riverbank nearby.

 

Then the screaming died down… but that didn’t mean the baby wasn’t in danger anymore; Aang kept searching, peering through the leafy canopy. And then he heard from just a little way further south, someone with an adult voice start to shout—a shout that ended in a _scream_ , and that other sound must have been a fireblast! His heart in his throat, Aang headed straight south—and then almost right below him, Prince Zuko screamed his son’s name; _oh monkeyfeathers_ , Katara was right, little Teiji was in danger!

 

The tree canopy was just too thick; he couldn’t see! Aang finally folded his glider and dived down through the leaves, hoping he wouldn’t hit any thick branches on the way down. Luckily for him, all he got were scratches from small twigs and leaves, and he was able to pull out of his dive about six feet before hitting and float the rest of the way to the ground. He hit the ground running, heading straight for the sounds of a screaming baby and a fire-fight up ahead.

 

He came upon the fight scene just in time to see Zhao frantically backing away from a raging Zuko, babbling “No! Stop! I didn’t mean—Stop! I-I surrender!”--

 

And in time to watch with horrified eyes as Zuko killed Zhao anyway.

 

Zhao's smoking corpse fell to the ground, and Zuko stood over it with his chest heaving and fists smoldering. Aang whispered, "Zuko... what have you done?!"

 

Zuko whipped around at the sound of his voice, and then started looking around wildly and shouting, " _Teiji_! Where's Teiji?!"

 

The baby started crying "Dada!" again, and Aang looked down in surprise; Teiji was almost right under his feet! He was lucky he hadn't accidentally stepped on him. He quickly picked the crying toddler up, giving him a quick-once-over to look for injuries; his face was scratched up and dirty like he'd fallen down face-first, and one of his arms was looking really red, like maybe he'd been burned by a stray fireball during the fight...

 

During the _murder_...

 

"Give him to me!" Zuko demanded, stepping closer.

 

Aang glared at him as he asked, "Why; so you can _hurt him_ some more?"

 

The firebender stopped in his tracks, looking shocked, as Aang went on angrily, "I _saw it_ , Zuko, and heard it with my own ears; Zhao was trying to get away from you, trying to surrender, but you killed him anyway! You _murdered_ him! And what about him?" as he pointed to the other corpse in the small clearing, a guy with just a charred ruin for a chest. "Did you kill him too? You're a _murderer_ , Zuko," as he held the baby protectively to his skinny chest. "You're unfit to be a guardian!"

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Red-faced, huffing and puffing, and feeling as if his thundering heart would burst out of his chest from all the exertion--he really needed to lose weight!--Iroh finally caught up to his nephew, in time to hear the Avatar say...

 

Say what were possibly the cruelest words that could be spoken to Zuko just then; that he was unworthy of being a parent to Teiji. Iroh was _sorely tempted_ to swat that airbending brat upside the head while yanking the baby free of his arms, and then follow it up with a boot to his arse that would be hard enough to knock him back into the air. If it had been anyone besides the Avatar that they needed to remain allies with…

 

He restrained himself, barely, while coming up abreast with the Avatar to survey the scene. Two corpses lay along the trail, one on the ground in front of Aang (poor Komori, Agni grant his spirit rest), while another lay several feet away and just behind his nephew (Zhao—and good riddance.) Teiji was wailing and bleeding in the Avatar’s arms, but at first glance the injuries seemed minor. Still, Iroh seized the opportunity and said to the Avatar, "Here (huff), let me treat (huff) treat his injuries."

 

Just as he’d figured, the airbending boy was still used to letting elders take charge if they acted in a calming manner; he immediately handed Teiji over, without hesitation—and then gave an indignant squawk of "Hey!" when, with the baby in his arms, Iroh strode past him and right up to Zuko, saying as calmly as he could while still out of breath, "Here, (huff) nephew, calm him down while (huff) while I get out the first aid supplies." It was fortunate that he'd taken a few seconds to dump all the contents of that medical supplies basket into their saddlebags just before they'd left camp.  

 

Zuko took Teiji into his arms, though very gingerly, as if afraid that even his mere touch would hurt him. But when Teiji threw his arms around his neck, Zuko gave an almost-sob as he hugged the baby close, rubbing his unscarred cheek against that downy mop of hair, and then started rubbing Teiji’s back to soothe him.

 

Iroh turned to the scowling airbender and said very firmly, "It is wrong to (huff) to so abruptly condemn people, Avatar, without (huff) without first learning the full story of their supposed misdeeds. (huff) So why don't you tell me what you believe happened, and then Zuko can explain--eh?" as he glimpsed a bright blaze of movement off to his left.

 

He turned his head and saw a kirin--no, the spirit of a kirin, almost certainly the one who had been present when they'd first found Teiji! He opened his mouth to declare its presence to those who couldn't see it for themselves--and then froze in dismay as a thought struck him. What if the kirin agreed with Avatar Aang, that killing Zhao somehow made Zuko unfit to be a parent, and was here to tell them who should be little Teiji's father-figure now?

He watched as the kirin-spirit strode rapidly across the small clearing, right up to the Avatar who was still glaring at him and Zuko, and apparently oblivious to its presence--

 

And then lowered its head, to plunge its glowing antlers right into the boy's chest.

 

**_To be continued!_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I swear, I didn't start this chapter with the intention of ending it on a cliffhanger! They drive me nuts too, so normally I don't write cliffhangers unless I have the next chapter ready for posting within 48 hours. That is, unfortunately, not the case this time. But this really was the best place to divide in half, the plot of a chapter that just kept growing, in detail and backstory and etc., until it promised to be an eighty-page behemoth! Which is really too long for most folks to read in just one sitting. 
> 
> As a kindness to you readers, to avert and defuse the worst of the cliffhanger drama: No, the kirin-spirit is not in the process of killing Aang. Or severing his connection to the Avatar Spirit, or anything like that. It didn’t come to punish the Avatar, but to teach, and to warn. Warn about what, you might ask? Well, that will be revealed in the next chapter...


	11. Forewarned

Zuko had just _murdered_ Zhao, killed him while he was trying to surrender! Aang had thought Zuko was a good guy who had finally figured out which side of the war he belonged on, but good people didn't murder the enemy! Zuko was _unfit_ to be the Avatar's ally, much less a guardian to a Zephyr, or whatever the Earth Kingdom people called babies Teiji's age.

 

As outraged as he was at Zuko, Aang was just as bewildered by what Iroh had done right in front of him. Why did that elder, who had always been kindly and good-tempered even when he was on the wrong side of the war, think it was actually a good idea to just give the baby back to Zuko like that?! How could he be so blind to--If this was more of that 'family ties' nonsense, then no wonder the Air Nomad elders had been firm on keeping it out of their culture!

Iroh turned back to him while still huffing and puffing after running into the clearing, and started talking about it being wrong to condemn people without hearing the full story, but then he stopped in mid-sentence; probably because he just realized that there could never be any excuse for _murder_. But just in case he hadn't, Aang was about to point that out to him loud and clear, when—suddenly there was some bizarre creature right in front of him, like a cross between a dragon and a fox-deer with antlers, and it _rammed those antlers right into his chest_!!

 

Aang screamed in pain and terror, and because suddenly his head was filled with a cacophony of sound, like every musical instrument in the world was being played at once and right in his ears. When he couldn’t push the monster away, he clapped his hands over his ears to at least make the noise stop, but it wasn’t even slightly muffled. Then the incredible noise cut off as abruptly as it had started when the monster backed off a step, and Aang air-jumped backwards ten feet to get away from it, while glancing down to see how badly he was bleeding—but there was no blood? But he’d just been _stabbed_!

 

Branches thrashed a few feet away as a machete hacked through the forest undergrowth, and then Sokka and Katara crashed through and into the clearing, both ready for battle; Sokka with machete and boomerang out, and Katara with a massive water-whip circling over her head. Katara dashed over to Aang, while Sokka whirled to face Zuko and Iroh—why weren’t they even _looking_ at the monster right in front of them?!

 

Because the monster was a _spirit_ , still partly in the Spirit realm and therefore invisible to everybody but Avatars, Aang realized a second later. Just like he’d been invisible to Katara after Hei Bai’s attack right before the Winter Solstice! That’s why he wasn’t bleeding or in lots of pain from being stabbed, either; when the spirits were invisible, they were intangible too, and couldn’t hurt anyone!

 

Just as he realized that, Katara asked anxiously, “Are you all right, Aang? We heard you scream!”

 

“I swear, we didn’t touch him!” Zuko said defensively from across the clearing, while drawing back with a scowl at Sokka’s brandished weapons, his own hands still full of crying baby. “And put those away before you scare Teiji even more!”

 

Sokka lowered his weapons but didn’t sheathe them, still looking suspiciously at the firebenders and at the corpses still smoldering on the ground, while Katara turned from Aang towards the firebenders instead and asked just as anxiously, “Is he hurt too?”

 

But before Zuko could answer, the spirit charged forward again, plunging those antlers right back into Aang—and this time they **_HURT_**!!

 

Aang screamed again as he was impaled on the monster’s antlers, and then hoisted up and thrown across the clearing with a toss of its fire-maned head. He lay where he’d landed, utterly stunned—and then found out he could be stunned even further, when he saw _himself_ on the other side of the clearing, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. The spirit had—had torn his soul right out of his body!

 

Katara screamed when she saw Aang collapse, and her water-whip burst into a hundred blades of ice. Zuko jumped back a full six feet with Teiji clutched to him, his face filled with alarm, freeing one hand to form a fireball in it. Sokka clenched his weapons with white-knuckled fists as he spun in a circle, trying to see what had attacked Aang, while shouting, “ _What the bloody slush is going on_?!”

 

It was Iroh who answered tensely, “The kirin-spirit has returned; the one who urged us to adopt Teiji! And it has torn the Avatar’s spirit from his body!”

 

“Aang’s **_dead_**?!”

 

“No, not dead, just forcibly separated—he’s over there!” as the elder pointed right at where Aang was lying, several feet away from his body.

 

Aang scrambled to his feet, blurting out, “You can see me?” He thought only Avatars could see spirits in this state!

 

Iroh spread his hands toward him apologetically. “If you’re trying to talk to me, Avatar, I’m afraid I can’t hear you; I have only the gift of seeing spirits, not of hearing them.” Then he pointed over Aang’s shoulder, saying hesitantly, “But I believe the kirin wishes to speak with you…”

 

Just then Aang felt something clamp onto his shoulder, hard; he looked to his left and yelped when he saw the spirit’s massive glowing eye and scaled muzzle—it had _bitten_ him! But not bitten _into_ him; just gotten its mouth on him, holding him tight. Then it tossed its head again, and Aang was flung around and over its shoulder, to land sprawling on its scaled back. “Oof!”

 

A wide-eyed Iroh narrated for everyone, “The kirin grabbed the Avatar again, and tossed him onto its back—I think it intends to take the Avatar somewhere!” And just as he said that, sure enough, the kirin bounded out of the clearing and through the trees, with Aang stuck to its back as if he had somehow been glued there. “They’re heading due south!” was the last thing Aang heard as he was helplessly carried away.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

With all that talk of a kirin spirit kidnapping the Avatar, Sokka really wanted to call Iroh crazy, but he had unfortunate _experience_ with spirits grabbing people and hauling them away for no good reason. And it was almost a comfort to see that Prince Zuko was just as freaked about the situation as they were, shielding the kid while eyeing Aang’s body with alarm, as if spirit-kidnapping was somehow contagious. Sokka was almost sure he heard a quaver in the prince’s voice as he asked, “What do we do now, Uncle?”

 

Iroh shook his head slightly while saying, “We cannot interfere in the spirits' business; the only thing we can do for the Avatar is look after his body, and make sure no one does harm to it or moves it while his spirit is out. While we wait for his return, I suggest we tend to other necessary matters. Like tending to your son’s injuries,” as he opened up the satchel he’d been carrying and started rummaging through it, probably looking for bandages.

 

Since the fighting was over and there wasn’t anything else they could do for Aang either, Sokka sheathed his weapons while Katara used her bending to fling most of her floating ice-daggers away into the trees. But not all of it; she said to the firebenders, “So Teiji _was_ hurt! We heard him screaming first… Here, let me see him,” as she turned the few remaining shards of ice back into water, that she gathered around her hands.

 

“I appreciate the offer, Miss Katara, but we have antiseptics and burn salves that are very effective at… wait a moment,” as Iroh stopped rummaging through the bag to look at her in surprise. “Weren’t you badly burned by the Avatar earlier? But you—oh, have you learned how to heal with waterbending?”

 

That got Prince Zuko to stare at his uncle with surprise. “Uncle, you _knew_ waterbenders can do that?”

 

“Some of them can, some can’t. But if you have learned water-healing, Miss Katara, then by all means,” as Iroh closed his bag of supplies and gestured towards the kid instead.

 

Katara stepped towards them while the water around her hands started glowing (Sokka decided that glow totally justified his calling her bending ‘playing with magic water’ while Katara was growing up.) But just before he reached them, Prince Zuko drew back again with a look of alarm. “Wait a moment; did you get that water straight from the river? That’s _cold_ water! Teiji hates cold water!”

 

Sokka just stared at him, amazed that somebody their age could be that _stupid_. Iroh just rolled his eyes and shook his head a little, while Katara scowled at him and said with biting sarcasm, “Oh, so you think he’d rather be in _pain_ for the next few _days_ , than cold for just a few seconds?”

 

Zuko flinched from her tone, and then sighed while shaking his head. “Well, that’s proof that I’m an idiot.”

 

Sokka wouldn’t have minded agreeing, but Katara instantly softened her scowl into a smile as she said, “No, you’re not; you’re just concerned, like any father would be.”

 

“Even so… may I warm the water before you use it, Miss Katara?” Iroh asked, while holding out a hand; the air shimmered above it like the hot air right over a fire. “That won’t affect its usefulness for channeling your healing ability, will it?”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Katara said with a helpless shrug. “I only just found out I could do this at all!” But if it doesn’t work when it’s warm, I’ll just go get more cold water from the river,” as she flicked the water gloving her hands off and back into a globe, which she held out in front of her.

 

Iroh stuck two fingers into the globe of water, and a few moments later withdrew them with a satisfied nod. Then Katara laid her water-gloved hands on Teiji, still crying in the prince’s arms, and barely a second later the baby stopped crying; instead, he looked at the glowing water surrounding him with wide-eyed wonder.

 

“Pretty, isn’t it, Teiji?” Zuko said softly. Sokka gave him a sharp look—that firebender had _better not_ be hitting on his sister—but Zuko was looking down at his kid, not at Katara. “Just look at the pretty glowing water…”

 

After a few seconds, Katara withdrew the water and smiled with satisfaction. “There we go; all better now.”

 

“Thank you, Katara… Can you say thank you, Teiji? Say ‘thank you’…” But when the baby just babbled some nonsense, Zuko looked at her apologetically. “Sorry, he doesn’t know those words yet.”

 

Katara said that was okay, while Sokka decided that he’d seen enough touchy-feely stuff for a while and looked over the corpses that were in the clearing with them, for the first time since they’d found the clearing by following the screams. One of them had his mouth and nose really badly burned, but he was pretty sure by the fancy uniform and the big sideburns that it was Admiral Zhao. The other one had a hole practically burned into his chest instead, and was dressed like one of Jeong Jeong’s men; Sokka thought his face looked familiar, but couldn’t remember his name. He pointed and asked, “Who was that guy?”

 

“His name was Komori,” Iroh said sorrowfully. “He gave his life protecting Teiji. We must give him a proper funeral, nephew.”

 

“Of course,” Prince Zuko said without hesitation, looking just as sad and grim as his uncle. “Would it be safe to take him back to camp? When everyone ran, they left the non-essentials behind, so there might be equipment there for making a proper funeral pyre for him.”

 

Sokka couldn’t help noticing that they weren’t saying anything about the other corpse in the clearing, but he’d already figured out what had happened here, and wisely kept silent. But Katara wasn’t quite as quick at reading the situation as he was; she pointed and asked somewhat hesitantly, “What about… is that Zhao?”

 

“It is,” Prince Zuko said, his lip curled back in a snarl that made him look even uglier than normal. “And the only funeral he deserves is to be thrown into the river to sink!”

 

Katara just looked confused. “You want him to have a Water Tribe funeral?”

 

Now it was the prince’s turn to look confused, while his uncle gave a snort of grim amusement. “I believe we are having a misunderstanding of customs… But perhaps now would be a good time to clear something up first. Why did you give him death to end _this_ battle, nephew?”

 

“He was going to _kill Teiji_!” Zuko snarled as wisps of smoke seeped out between his clenched teeth. “I got here just in time to stop Zhao from burning him to death, like he’d done to Komori!”

 

“He _what_?!” Sokka shouted in outrage, and in tandem with his sister. And he nodded emphatic agreement with Katara when she crossed her arms and scowled at the corpse while declaring, “He’s not going in that good clean river, either!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Aang was expecting to be hauled off further into the spirit world by the kirin, like when he’d ridden on Fang the dragon, but the landscape around them didn’t turn all cloudy and weird; instead they just kept going south, right up to the edge of the Fire Nation colony. Then the kirin turned right and galloped into the harbor—and right _across_ the water, which was actually pretty neat—heading straight for a huge Fire Nation ship. Looking at it upside-down from where he was still draped over the kirin’s back, Aang thought at first that it was Prince Zuko’s old ship, but when they got closer he realized that it was at least twice the size of that ship, and looked a lot newer too.

 

“Is that Admiral Zhao’s ship?” he asked the kirin, but it didn’t answer; it just galloped across the water to the ship, then right up the side—cool! Wonder if it could gallop across a ceiling, too?—and over the railing, to land soundlessly on the deck. There it stopped and shook once, hard, and Aang abruptly discovered he wasn’t glued to the kirin’s back anymore; when he slid off, he just barely managed to avoid face-planting on the deck. When he stood up, the kirin nodded to him and went trotting through a doorway on the ship; Aang got the idea that he should follow.

 

He followed the kirin through passageways and down stairwells until they reached a cabin that had Zhao’s name and rank painted in big gold characters on the door. The kirin just walked right through the closed door, so Aang followed him the same way, and found himself in a cabin that was twice as big and decorated at least four times fancier than Zuko’s cabin had been, when he’d seen it back at the south pole.

 

“Okay, we’re in Zhao’s cabin… now what?” Aang said aloud.

 

The kirin turned to face Aang and lowered its antlers again, and Aang instinctively shied away from those sharp points—they’d _really hurt_ when he got ripped out of his body earlier! The kirin snorted at his retreat—and that was definitely a snort of disgust with his behavior; he’d gotten enough of those from various fancy officials over the last few months to know the difference. But it didn’t lunge forward to stick him again, just waited with its head lowered. After a few long moments, Aang swallowed hard, screwed up his courage and reached out to gingerly touch one of the antler tips.

 

MUSICNOISE MUSICNOISE MUSICNOISE

 

Aang held on as long as he could stand it, but he finally jerked his hand back and shook his head. “You’re trying to talk to me, aren’t you? Like Fang the dragon did, but with really loud music instead of pictures in my head. I’m sorry, but I just can’t understand you!”

 

The kirin’s face wasn’t anything close to human, but that was definitely an eye-roll of resigned disappointment that it was doing right now. “Well, excuse me!” Aang snapped back defensively. “It’s not _my_ fault that you’re extinct now and nobody knows how to talk to you anymore!”

 

The kirin turned away from him, to face a fancy carved chest sitting against the wall. It walked slowly up to it, looked back at Aang and jerked its head— _get over here_ —and when Aang came over, it lifted one delicate hoof to very deliberately poke through the locked chest on the right side, like it was trying to touch something near the bottom on that side.

 

And then it reared back, and came crashing down with both front hooves on the chest. Nothing happened to the chest, of course, since they were both intangible, but the kirin kept rearing back and stamping down, like it was doing its very best to trample it. Then it stopped and stepped back a pace, to look expectantly at Aang.

 

“So, there’s something in that chest that you want destroyed?” The kirin gave him a big, emphatic nod. “You want me to come back here once I’m back in my body, and destroy it?” Another big nod. “Okay, I’ll do it. Now--” But Aang abruptly found himself talking to the kirin’s tail as it turned and leaped for the far cabin wall, and then vanished right through it.

 

“Hey!” as Aang ran for the wall too. He leaned out through the glass porthole and called out, “Hey, how about a lift back?” But the kirin was already far from ship, galloping back across the waves to shore.

 

“Well, great,” he sighed aloud, while turning around to walk through the closed cabin door. “Without my airbending, it’s going to be a really long walk back to the others. I’m going to be _so_ tired…”

 

…Wait a minute. He was a spirit right now, and spirits didn’t _get_ tired, did they? In fact…

 

Less than a minute later, Aang was giggling with glee while running across the waves, at a sprint so fast it was almost like air-racing. He shouted to nobody in particular, “I bet I could beat an ostrich-horse at this pace! Next stop, my own body!”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

No one believed that Zhao deserved a decent funeral, but Uncle Iroh pointed out that they had to do something to get rid of or at least hide the body; surely his men would come back looking for him when he didn’t turn up soon, and the more time they wasted looking for Zhao instead of pursuing the Avatar (or pursuing Zuko himself, once his desertion was discovered and they started putting up wanted posters with his real face on them), the better for all the allies.

 

In the end, the small group decided to drop Zhao’s body into a nearby narrow ravine that Zuko and Iroh had noticed earlier, while running to Teiji’s rescue. Leaving Teiji in Katara’s care for the moment, Zuko dragged Zhao’s corpse away by the heels, while his uncle broke a leafy branch off of a nearby tree and used it to sweep, muddle and erase the dragging trail. When he reached the ravine, Zuko scouted out the deepest spot, and then kicked Zhao’s corpse over the edge right into it.

 

After erasing the last few marks in the dirt, Iroh dropped the leafy branch down into the ravine to further hide the corpse from view, and then went over to a tree not far off and untied a belaying line that someone had left dangling into the ravine. “A good rope can be useful in many situations,” he commented while coiling it up, as they walked back to the clearing.

 

When they came back, they found Sokka had nearly finished stripping the branches that Iroh had asked him to cut down with his machete, making two rough poles of the right length. And Katara arrived back in the clearing just moments after they did, with Teiji propped at her shoulder and a fist-sized ball of sinew in her hand from the Water Tribe folks’ own supplies.

 

But just as the Water Tribe girl handed the twine over, Teiji grabbed one of her hair loops and yanked on it hard, making her grimace in pain. “Teiji, _no_!” Zuko scolded as he hurriedly took the baby off her hands instead of the twine. “I’ve told you before, _no pulling hair_!” Then he sighed while bowing an apology to her, muttering, “I thought he’d learned better manners by now…”

 

“It’s all right; no real harm done,” Katara replied with a gracious smile while tucking the hair loop back in place. “And to be honest, it’s hardly the first time that’s happened to me; the babies in my tribe used to do it all the time. It’s one reason why this hairstyle is only worn by unmarried women, instead of mothers.”

 

“Interesting! I would like to learn more of your tribe’s customs, if time permits,” Uncle Iroh said with a smile, while sorting through the smaller branches that Sokka had stripped off the two larger ones. “I studied some of the Water Tribes’ ways many years ago, but I know there is much more to learn.”

 

But rather than waste valuable time with a cultural lesson, they worked together to make a crude stretcher for carrying poor Komori back to camp, where hopefully they would find a usable set of ceramic funeral plates to lay him on for his pyre. Well, Sokka and Katara mostly worked on the stretcher, tying the smaller branches between the two rough poles, while Iroh handed them whatever they pointed to and Zuko just kept his son out of their way.

 

Noting how swiftly the two siblings put the stretcher together from raw materials, Zuko thought it would be very good for him and his uncle and son if they— _no, don’t think that_ , he swiftly and silently scolded himself. It didn’t matter how useful they could be; as soon as the Avatar was back on his feet the Water Tribe folk would be leaving for the North Pole with him, while Zuko and his uncle found a safe place to raise Teiji for the next few months. Given that they’d persisted in aiding the Avatar this far across the world, it was clear that no amount of gold would persuade the two to abandon him now and help a Fire Nation family instead.

 

Immediately after tying the last branch into place on the stretcher, Sokka stood up and announced abruptly, “Okay, here’s the plan. Prince Zuko takes one end of the stretcher, I take the other end, and we carry the guy back to the deserters’ camp for his funeral. Iroh follows us with the baby, and Katara stays here with Aang to keep an eye on him.”

 

Affronted, Zuko glared at him while demanding, “Why are _you_ making plans for us?”

 

“Perhaps because it is a most sensible plan, nephew,” Iroh interjected with a raised and warning eyebrow at Zuko, one that he knew meant _shut up before you get us in trouble_. “I’m sure you would feel better about bringing Teiji with us back to camp, than leaving him here while we conduct the funeral. But during the funeral, someone will be needed to keep an eye on him and keep him far from the flames while we cremate the body. Though I’ll admit I’m surprised that you volunteered yourself to come with us, young Sokka. I had thought you would suggest your sister to mind the baby instead.”

 

“I’m coming instead because as much as I hate to admit it, Katara would have a better chance of protecting Aang against a wandering squad of firebenders than I would,” Sokka said with a sour glance at his sister, who just smirked at him in return. “But one of us has to come with you to mind the kid, because he’s just too young to follow orders and keep quiet, and the last thing we need is his baby noises attracting more firebenders to Aang’s body.” Zuko had to admit that he had a point; Teiji could be quiet at times, but he wasn’t a particularly silent child by nature.

 

They loaded poor Komori onto the stretcher, but just as they were about to stand up and start carrying him back to the camp, the Avatar suddenly sat bolt upright with a gasp, that immediately morphed into a wide grin (looking ridiculously happy for such a somber occasion.) And he announced, “I just ran twenty miles without stopping!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Sokka asked his friend incredulously. “That’s the first time you’ve moved at all in nearly an hour!”

 

The Avatar explained that his spirit had been doing the running instead (which meant the feat didn’t count as a physical achievement, but Zuko kept that thought to himself.) Then he explained about the kirin-spirit having taken him all the way to Zhao’s flagship, and what it had shown him while they were aboard.

 

Uncle stroked his beard in thought while the Avatar talked about his spirit-encounter, and when the tale was finished he spoke up with a firm, “Whatever is in that chest, it must be destroyed or at least taken off that ship before Zhao’s men discover his death. I strongly suggest we do so this very night, under cover of darkness. Nephew, I assume you packed your ‘Blue Spirit’ disguise in the bottom of your saddlebag?”

 

At Iroh’s words, Zuko felt like he’d taken a glancing blow to the chest while cold-sparring with Sergeant Goro; his heart stuttered for a beat or two, and his lungs seized on thin air. Once he caught his breath again, he stared at his uncle while asking numbly, “You know?”

 

“About your being the ‘Blue Spirit’ that Zhao put on all those wanted posters?” Iroh gave him one of those _looks_ that made him feel like he was six years old again. “Nephew, I’ve known for over a year now; since you used that disguise to sneak past the dock guards at Mitsuyu Colony to get information from the colony governor's office. And I’ve covered for your absence from the ship in the middle of the night more than once, I might add.”

 

Zuko was still absorbing the shock—all this time, his uncle _knew_?!—when Iroh added, “Though you never gave me more cause to worry than the _last_ time you wore it, when you helped the Avatar escape from Pohuai Stronghold right under Zhao’s very nose! But that certainly proved your effectiveness at espionage and sabotage when needed.”

 

“Wait, _what_?” Sokka interrupted with a yelp, waving his arms for attention. “You did what? Helped Aang escape Zhao?! When was this supposed to have happened?”

 

“Less than two weeks ago,” Zuko informed him, before turning to the Avatar and asking, “You didn’t tell them?”

 

“No, I didn’t,” the airbender said rather sullenly, giving both him and his uncle a resentful look before telling his companions, “It happened that time you were both really sick and stayed with Appa. Can we talk about it later?”

 

“I imagine it is indeed quite a story, and so best saved for a time when it can be properly appreciated,” his uncle agreed affably. “And after exploring every inch of the layout of our old ship, Prince Zuko should have little trouble finding Zhao’s cabin aboard his flagship. The ship’s current location offshore presents a problem, but not an insurmountable one.” He turned to Katara and asked, “Miss Katara, can you use your bending to create a thick fog?”

 

“I… I think so,” Katara said uncertainly at first, but her uncertainty vanished a moment later. “Yes, I can! I’ve worked to shape clouds before, and fog is just a low-lying cloud.”

 

“Excellent. Then tonight Miss Katara can slowly build up a thick fog to blanket the colony’s harbor, and when the fog is at its thickest, the Avatar can guide Appa alongside the ship unseen, so Prince Zuko can sneak aboard in his disguise. Then--”  

“No way!” the Avatar interrupted with a scowl.

 

“Why not, Aang?” Sokka asked him, an eyebrow raised. “So far it sounds like a good plan.”

 

“I’m not letting _him_ ,” as the Avatar pointed vehemently at Zuko, “anywhere near Appa! He’s a _murderer_!”

 

The charge hurt no less than the first time he’d heard it. Zuko lowered his head to stare at his feet while the Avatar continued, “Maybe you guys were too far away to hear it, but _I_ did! When they were fighting, Zhao tried to surrender—but Zuko killed him anyway!”

 

The Avatar was right; Zhao _had_ tried to surrender. Zuko hadn’t heard him at the time, deafened by his rage against the man who’d tried to kill his son… but now that the fight was over, his memory oh-so-helpfully supplied Zhao’s panicked pleas: “ _No, stop! I-I surrender!_ ” But he hadn’t stopped, until Zhao was dead at his feet…

 

“He offered surrender, hm?” Iroh rumbled like a waking dragon, stepping between Zuko and the Avatar to stare down at the young airbender. “And you believed him, of course… because you were not there the _last_ time Zhao surrendered after facing my nephew in combat, on the Agni Kai field. But I was there, Avatar, and I will swear this before Agni Himself: Zhao’s surrender was followed less than one minute later by an attack on Prince Zuko from behind. If I had not been present to block the attack, my nephew would likely not be standing before you now! Zhao never knew the true _meaning_ of surrender, because _he had no honor_. If Prince Zuko had stopped fighting to accept his surrender, Zhao would have struck again at the first opportunity!”

 

“Well, it was still wrong to kill him!” the Avatar retorted. “Killing is always wrong!”

 

Even though Iroh was facing away from him, Zuko could almost _feel_ that bushy eyebrow being raised and directed at the Avatar. “ _Always_ wrong? Do you truly believe that, Avatar?”

 

“Yes! The Air Nomads believe all life is sacred! No Air Nomad has _ever_ killed _anyone_!”

 

Suddenly Sokka spoke up, his voice as flat as the grim line his mouth made across his face. "Aang."

 

"What?" the Avatar snapped, clearly irritated at someone interrupting his righteous tirade.

 

"You know I'm your friend, and I'm generally on your side, right?"

 

"Yeah..." as the airbender gave the Water Tribe teen a suddenly uncertain and somewhat worried look. For which Zuko could hardly blame him; in the prince's own life, nearly every single time that someone had claimed they were his friend or his family, their words were inevitably followed by either pain or betrayal... usually both.

 

Sokka continued evenly, "So as your friend, I have to tell you: that's a load of walrus dung."

 

"What?!" the Avatar yelped in outrage, as the other Water Tribe member, Katara, looked alarmed and made shushing gestures at her brother.

 

Ignoring his sister, Sokka stared the Avatar right in the eyes as he continued in that same grim tone, "Air Nomads _do_ kill, when they have enough reason to, and you know it."

 

" _They do **NOT**_!" and that last word was shouted with enough volume to deafen a dragon, probably amplified by some airbending trick. Even with the brunt of the sound blast directed away from him, even after living with Teiji and the baby's loud shrieks for several weeks, the assault on his eardrums was enough to make Zuko wince and grit his teeth in pain. In his arms, Teiji whimpered and buried his head in his tunic to try to hide from the noise.

 

The audible blast of denial rocked Sokka back on his heels as he clapped his hands to his ears, but then he scowled and leaned forward in defiant challenge--standing up to an angry Avatar, without any bending at all; Zuko was impressed despite himself. Through the ringing in his ears he heard Sokka shout, "Remember what we found back at the Southern Air Temple, Aang?"

 

"Sokka, don't!" Katara shouted, though her voice seemed muffled after the blast.

 

But Sokka was undeterred by his sister too. "When we found Monk Gyatso's body, do you remember what it was surrounded by? All those skeletons were wearing _Fire Nation uniforms_! They didn't die there of _old age_ , Aang! Face it; they were killed, by an Air Nomad!"

 

Fire Nation skeletons? Zuko took his eyes off Sokka to exchange startled glances with his uncle, sure that his uncle was thinking the exact same thing: _We must have missed some_. When they'd investigated the Southern Air Temple over two years ago, searching for clues as to the whereabouts of the Avatar, Uncle Iroh had insisted on cleaning up the place at the same time. The day before they'd started back down the Patola Mountains to where the _Wani_ was anchored, the expedition members had gathered up all the bodily remains they could find, mostly just skeletons but a few mummified corpses as well, and held two mass funerals.   The first for all the bodies that had been wearing the remains of Fire Nation uniforms or weapons, and the second for the bodies of presumed Air Nomads.

 

As prince and ship's captain, Zuko had presided over the first funeral for the nameless Fire Nation soldiers; as the pyre of bones burned, he'd praised their sacrifice and assured any lingering spirits that their descendants were proud of them. But at his own request, Uncle Iroh had presided over the funeral for the Air Nomads. That pyre was so much larger, with so many more skeletons gathered, but the service so much shorter; his eyes downcast as the fire blazed, Iroh had said only, "Go in peace, to dwell with your ancestors." Only now, locking eyes with his uncle while thinking back on that day, did Zuko realize why Iroh had said so little; because in front of so many people loyal to the Fire Nation, he hadn't dared speak aloud any words of apology for the slaughter of so many innocent lives.

 

_WHOOSH_

 

Startled by the gust of wind, Zuko turned from his uncle back to the others in the clearing, to find the Avatar-- _gone_ , with just a dust-devil of disturbed leaves settling to earth, to indicate where he'd been standing. He looked upwards though the miniscule break in the tree canopy overhead, and glimpsed the airbender on his glider-staff rising in what appeared to be a rapid spiral.

 

"Whew..." the gusty sigh of relief brought his eyes back to the level, to see Sokka sagging with his hands braced on his thighs as he said, "For a second there I thought he was going to go all glowy on us again."

 

"Glowy?" Iroh echoed in puzzlement.

 

"The Avatar State," Katara explained briefly, while glaring at her brother. "How _could_ you, Sokka? That was _cruel_!"

 

"And what was I supposed to do, Sis?" Sokka shot back with a matching glare. "Just let him keep badmouthing a guy who was _protecting his family_?!"

 

Then he swung back with an accusing finger pointing right at Zuko. " _Not_ that I like or even trust you guys, because I don't! I still wouldn't be surprised if this is all part of some complicated plot to gain Aang's trust so you can lead him right into the Fire Lord's den. But you actually did us a big favor by getting rid of Zhao permanently, so I did you one back. There, we're even."

 

Then the Water Tribe teen shrugged, "Besides, now that he's been knocked off his high ostrich-hose about killing, maybe he'll ease up on his 'all life is sacred' line enough that I don't have to dress and butcher all my kills and stuff 'em inside a sack before bringing them back to camp for cooking. I'm tired of doing all that extra work, just so's not to hurt Aang's feelings about killing tasty animals."

 

.. _.Whoa_. Zuko flinched at the sudden dark _rage_ filling the clearing, emanating from the waterbender along with an aura of chilling cold.   " _Excuse_ me? _You're_ tired of doing ‘all the extra work’?" Katara said dangerously. "It’s work that would have had to be done later anyway; you’d just rather have _me_ do it! Never mind all the extra work that I’ve _already_ been doing, trying to keep both a meat-lover _and_ a vegetarian fed with every meal! Not to mention doing all the laundry _and_ the mending for both of you, _and_ collecting firewood, and--"

 

"Come along, nephew," Iroh rumbled at his side, tugging gently at his elbow, not that Zuko needed the urging to back away slowly. "It's never wise to get involved in family arguments. Come, let's find a quieter place to check Teiji's diaper..."

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

By the time they came back to the clearing fifteen minutes later, the siblings' squabble had ended and they both had the grace to look embarrassed when Iroh walked in with the suggestion that it was time they took poor Komori back to camp for his funeral. In the end they went with Sokka's plan for proceeding to camp, but instead of staying behind to wait for the Avatar, Katara went to get the sky bison and fly him back to the camp, to meet them there. "Aang will be able to see Appa from the air, and he'll know to meet us there later," Sokka explained, holding the rear grips of the stretcher while Zuko held the front and Iroh led the way with Teiji.

 

"Does he do that often; just fly away without a word?" Iroh said with a concerned glance over his shoulder.

 

"Eh, sometimes," Sokka said with a shrug. "But never for very long; just until he's calmed down."

 

"Still, I'm disappointed in his behavior," Zuko grunted while carrying the stretcher. "Running from the truth _never_ helps."

 

Iroh's voice floated back to them, gently chiding. "What about loudly denying it, nephew?"

 

“…” Zuko shut up, hoping that his blushing wasn’t visible to Sokka from behind.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

It didn't take long for them to return to the deserters' camp, which was now truly deserted as per Jeong Jeong's standing orders. But when they reached the camp, they found not only Katara and Appa, but the ex-captain Chey there as well. "He was wandering around when I got here," Katara said, her face troubled. "He said he just came back from a trip into town, to find the place deserted; he thought at first everyone was just pulling a prank on him..."

 

Uncle Iroh asked Chey hopefully, "I don't suppose you know where the chosen fallback site is? We would like to rendezvous with Jeong Jeong as well."

 

But Chey shook his head, much to Zuko's disappointment. "Nuh-uh. Jeong Jeong always told me to just stay with one of the other guys and follow them..."

 

But then Chey noticed the stretcher that Zuko and Sokka were carrying between them, and his eyes went wide with alarm for a second. He rushed over to pull the white cloth off the corpse's face... and then said grimly, "Komori." Straightening up, he looked directly at Zuko as he asked with that same grim expression, "How did he die?"

 

"Admiral Zhao found him and burned him down, while he was protecting my son," Zuko said as his guts twisted once more. First Teiji's mother, then Hūn, and now Komori; how many more people would die just trying to protect an innocent baby?!

 

Chey nodded curtly, then pointed off to the left. "I know where the funeral cloth and tiles are; take him to the firebending training arena, and I'll meet you there." Then he turned to Katara and asked politely, "Will you give me a hand carrying the supplies?"

 

Preoccupied by thoughts about how cruel the world could be, Zuko just nodded and tugged on the stretcher's poles to get Sokka to follow him, and it wasn't until they were halfway to the camp's training arena that he realized... how very _different_ Chey had become, at first sight of their casualty.

 

Jeong Jeong's words from only three days ago came back to Zuko as they set the stretcher down in the training area and Chey came to them, grunting under a full load of heavy ceramic tiles, while Katara followed with her arms full of white cloth and a small urn for ashes. " _He'd been a damn good captain, once; a rising star in the Eastern Command. He knew explosives better than even the factories that make them, but he took good care of his people, too. It's a pity that one of his people wasn't as good with explosives, and that faulty bomb went off close enough that it knocked him unconscious for three days_. _He finally woke up, but he was never the same afterwards..._ "

 

As Chey efficiently set up and cleaned the interlocking funeral tiles while Iroh helped Zuko wrap Komori's corpse in the specially-treated funeral shroud, he noticed his uncle sneaking glances at Chey as well, before meeting his gaze with clear understanding: for at least this brief moment, _Captain Chey_ was back, to do right by one of his people.

 

Soon the corpse was ready, properly wrapped in the shroud and lying on the tiles with his head facing west-southwest, towards the setting sun and the Home Islands. When the deserter asked the royals for permission to conduct the funeral service, both Zuko and Iroh surrendered the honor to him without any qualms.

 

Standing before the body while Zuko and Iroh stood at attention (and while Teiji thankfully kept quiet with Katara and his teething toy), Captain Chey solemnly intoned, “We gather here to remember the life of our fallen comrade in arms: Komori, son of Jiro and Hiromi, of Yushu Colony. Born on the sixth day of the eighth month in the Year of the Dragon, Komori was a good and dutiful son to his parents, and a good brother to his younger siblings. After enlisting in the Army and completing his initial training, he was assigned to the 92nd Division and served there with honor, rising to the rank of corporal.

 

“Shortly after achieving his rank, Komori faced a great challenge to his honor, having been commanded to commit an atrocity; to burn down an abbey full of people who had never done his nation nor anyone else any harm. Instead of staining his honor with innocent blood, he chose the harder but honorable path; he disobeyed that cruel order, secretly warned the monks of the abbey to flee immediately, and then left all that he had known behind, to wander until he eventually found his way to this camp of similar deserters. Komori served as one of Jeong Jeong's most trusted men for three years before he died honorably, protecting an innocent child from harm. He will be missed by all who knew him. We will honor his memory always, as we honor his remains today and send his spirit home to Agni’s warm embrace.”

 

With that, Chey bowed to the body before stepping back, and gesturing to Zuko and Iroh. That was their cue to step forward and stand on either side of the rectangular funeral platform, and fire their hottest blasts straight at the cloth-covered corpse on the tiles. The accelerant impregnated in the white funeral cloth caught fire instantly, and flames roared into the evening sky. They kept pouring out flames for a full five minutes, until all that was left of Komori was a long low pile of ashes.

 

After the ashes cooled, Zuko personally swept them up and deposited them in the funeral urn, whispering a final word of thanks to Komori's spirit as he did so. His uncle retrieved a writing brush from their packs, dipped it in ink and carefully wrote Komori's name on the urn's lid.

 

Then Captain Chey, having already shouldered his traveling pack, picked up the urn as well. "Since there's little point in wandering the woods searching for the fallback site, I'll take this to Yushu Colony and Komori's family; let them know how their son died with honor."

 

"Um, that's not really a good idea," Sokka said hesitantly. "Remember how we saw those wanted posters while we were walking to the colony for the festival? They had a wanted poster up for you, too! What if someone recognizes you?"

 

Captain Chey gave the teen a wry smile as he said, "We saw wanted posters for the Avatar, too. But that hasn't stopped him, or you, has it? I'll simply have to be careful," as he turned to leave.

 

"Chey, wait a moment," Iroh said hurriedly, while fishing for something in his belt pouch. Then he pulled out a pai sho tile, his treasured lotus tile, and put it in the captain's palm.

 

Chey held the tile up, squinting at it in the evening gloom--and Zuko's heart sank as he noticed the vague expression was back on Chey's face. That _damn good captain_ had rallied as long as he could, but... Chey asked, "What's this for?"

 

"...It's for luck," was all Iroh said, his expression sad. "Go with Agni's blessing, Chey."

 

"Thanks; I will!" Chey said cheerfully, with a sloppy wave to them before heading off into the trees.

As they watched him go, Katara asked softly, "Do you think he'll make it safely all the way to Yushu Colony?"

 

After a pause, Iroh said solemnly, "I think he will try his very best. And that is all that any of us can do."

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Everyone knew that even if the firebenders hadn’t given away the camp’s location with that funeral fire, it had already been compromised with Zhao’s attack; it was time to leave, before more Fire Nation forces arrived. But Katara but insisted that they take a few minutes to raid the storage huts for food and other useful supplies, before climbing aboard Appa to find somewhere safer to wait for Aang’s return. Her traveling family had known lean times far too often to pass up the opportunity to restock and augment their supplies, and the goods might have just gone to waste otherwise.

 

They got three sacks of rice, a whole crateful of assorted vegetables, a better cooking pot than they’d had before, another set of spark stones, and two good tarpaulins; they had just finished tying the new supplies into the saddle when Aang came gliding down out of the sky to join them. He still looked unhappy over the truth that Sokka had shoved down his throat earlier, but all he said was, “Let’s go do what the kirin spirit wanted.”

 

They still had a few hours to wait until midnight, when most of the people aboard Zhao’s ship would be asleep, but that gave them more time to make the thick fog that they’d need to hide Appa. And as General Iroh pointed out, the longer they took to slowly build up the fog, the less suspicious it would be to the people on watch all night. So after hiding Appa and everyone else in another clearing two miles from the deserters’ camp, Katara went with Aang on his glider down to the colony’s harbor, to start making their fog cover.

 

Katara didn’t like precariously hanging off of just half of the glider any better than the first time she’d done it, while they were escaping from the pirates back in Laosing, but she held her tongue for Aang’s sake; he still looked so solemn and sad… When they were almost to the colony, she said softly, “I’m sorry Sokka was so harsh in telling you. He could have just--”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Aang quickly interrupted her, and Katara fell silent for the rest of the flight. Now probably wasn’t a good time to talk about it anyway; they had a mission to accomplish.

 

When they landed in a patch of trees that came right to the water’s edge, Katara cautiously crept down to the shore until her feet were almost touching the water and then, reaching out with both arms and _chi_ , encouraged the water to rise up as mist. She did it over and over again, while Aang created a gentle breeze to send the slowly thickening mist out over the harbor.

 

Two hours later, Katara was _exhausted_ from the constant bending, doubled over to support herself with sweat-slicked hands braced on shaking legs, but the ships out in the harbor were now completely invisible under a thick blanket of fog.   Having been silent for the last two hours, Aang said only, “That should be more than good enough; we could hide an entire herd of sky bison out there. Wait here and rest; I’ll go get Appa and the others.” And then he took off on his glider, leaving Katara to flop down right in her tracks and just _breathe_ for a while.

 

She’d meant to stay awake while waiting; they were still way too close to the colony to let down their guard even for a moment. But to her embarrassment, Katara was woken up by her brother calling her name, right before he _stepped on her_ in the fogbound darkness. " _Oww_!"

 

Sokka squawked too as he stumbled over her and pitched face-first into the dirt, and it took an embarrassing amount of time to right themselves, make sure neither one had broken any bones, and grope their way over to where Appa and the others were waiting. “Great job, Sis, but did you have to make it _this_ thick?”

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Iroh was quite impressed with what Katara had learned about waterbending in the months since she had left the Southern Water Tribe with the Avatar and her brother. Back then it had been obvious that she was pitifully undertrained, likely self-taught at best; she could do little more than make waves and then freeze the water, and her efforts had trapped friends and foes alike (her brother had been forced to chip his way free, as Iroh recalled.) Now she was healing with water, controlling ice-daggers, and blanketing an entire harbor with possibly the thickest fog Iroh had ever seen; only the smokestacks for the larger ships were poking up out of the haze.

 

After finding Katara where the Avatar had left her and bringing her aboard the sky bison, Sokka got off again with a sleeping Teiji in his arms and with many grumbles about being stuck with babysitting. Iroh understood his reasons for grumbling, but just as the Water Tribe teen had pointed out earlier in the day, their mission could end up failing disastrously if Teiji woke up and attracted a guard’s attention with his childish babbling.

 

The sky bison glided silently out over the harbor, heading slowly through the fog for Zhao’s flagship. Already dressed in the black clothing he wore for his ‘Blue Spirit’ missions and with ashes smeared on his face to blacken it, Zuko stood up in the saddle and navigated, his head just barely emerging from the thickest swirls of mist, whispering occasional course corrections to the Avatar at the reins.

 

When they silently slid alongside the flagship, they heard the grumbles and mutterings of the people on watch complaining about the fog, and brief glows from firebenders attempting to burn away the mist and increase their visibility, but no one was crying out that the fog was the work of waterbenders; Katara and the Avatar had done their work slowly enough to make it seem entirely natural.   Using his ship captain’s knowledge of where the watches would be stationed, Zuko picked an open spot between two watch posts—a spot that would normally be visible to one of those posts, if it weren’t for the thick fog—and told them to come in close enough for boarding.

 

As the prince slid the Blue Spirit mask down over his face, Katara whispered worriedly, “How will we know when you’re ready to be picked up? Should I bend the fog away from this one spot so we can see you?”

 

His voice somewhat muffled by the mask, Zuko whispered back, “Don’t do that; the roving watch will be coming long soon, and he might notice a conspicuous absence of fog here, or worse yet, get a glimpse of you waiting offside. I’ll make a quick double-burst of flame in this spot when I’m done and ready to be picked up. When you see the glow, come in silently but _fast,_ before the watch decides to investigate.”  

 

And with that he picked up the empty sacks they had found in the deserted camp and leaped off the saddle, to land almost soundlessly on the deck of the ship. The Avatar nudged his mount and they backed silently away, until the bulk of the ship was barely visible in the fog once more.

 

The next half hour and more passed in anxious silence. They had already discussed the possibility of Zuko being discovered while sneaking through the ship, and at the first sound of an alarm being raised, they would charge in with whirlwinds and water-whips alongside blasts of fire, to rescue the Blue Spirit before he could be unmasked. But that was only if they _heard_ an alarm being raised; if something happened deep in the bowels of the ship, out of their hearing range…

 

Finally, Iroh saw the quick flickering glow of the double-burst of flame, but even before he could open his mouth Katara was whispering urgently, “There! I saw the signal! Let’s go, Aang!” The sky bison surged forward, and they drew up to the railing so the Blue Spirit could leap aboard again, just as the nearest guard demanded, “Who’s there? Taro, if that’s you sneaking a smoke while on duty again…”

 

They pulled away quickly and just as silently, heading back to the shore where they’d left Sokka and Teiji. “What did you find, nephew?” Iroh asked once they were far enough away for normal conversation.

 

“The sea chest the Avatar described was right where he said it would be, and the lock only took a few minutes to melt through, but there was a large assortment of stuff inside. What the kirin wanted is probably one of the items I found in the secret compartment, but I grabbed everything in the chest to be on the safe side,” Zuko said as he patted the now-bulging sack.

 

“Secret compartment?” the Avatar piped up, for the moment as curious as any boy his age would be; the first sign of his usual happy and eager personality they'd seen since his return.

 

“A false bottom on the chest, accessible only if you know where the hidden catch is. Too bad for Zhao that I knew how to look for it, because I had a similar sea chest; that’s how I used to hide this mask,” Zuko said as he took his Blue Spirit mask off to reveal a definite smirk.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Sokka was waiting right where they'd left him with Teiji, who had been sleeping but woke up again while being hoisted into the saddle. Rather than tie the toddler into the humiliating harness, Zuko just kept a tight grip on his son while they flew to the clearing Uncle Iroh had suggested earlier, some distance away from the deserters’ camp; the clearing where they had been training in advanced firebending techniques. As soon as they arrived and put all the packs on the ground, the Avatar’s group took the sky bison’s saddle off of him, while Zuko and Iroh started setting up the tent for their own little family of three, by the light of the waning moon high overhead.

 

...Okay, to be honest, they _tried_ to set up the tent for their family. The tent had come from their own storeroom aboard the Wani, with the quartermaster's seal showing that all the necessary parts were included, and Zuko and his uncle had both slept in tents of this same model before, while on expeditions during that two-year-long search for the Avatar. But the sad truth was that neither of them had ever paid much attention during those two years and more as to exactly _how_ these tents were set up. Their conversation for the next few minutes consisted mostly of mutterings along the lines of "What about this piece?" and "Are you sure that goes there?" interspersed with the occasional, "Teiji, no; put that down!"

 

Finally, at the sound of a cheerfully scornful ‘tsk’, they looked up to see not only the sky bison's saddle removed, but the Avatar group's tent already set up as well, and both of the Water Tribe teens descending on them with condescending smiles. "You look like you could use some help from the experts," Sokka said oh-so-modestly, before they basically took over the operation.

 

Katara was a bit more kind about helping them, but Sokka took obvious glee in showing the Fire Nation royals everything they'd been doing wrong. And Zuko hated being condescended to; he'd gotten far too much of that already from Azula while growing up! And he was about tell Sokka exactly where he could _shove_ his 'help', when Uncle Iroh picked up Teiji and plunked the baby down right in his arms. Which meant that now he didn't dare start shouting, because Teiji always started crying when he did that... Zuko gave his uncle a dirty glare, but managed--barely--to keep his angry thoughts to himself, while the Water Tribe siblings schooled them both on how to set the tent up correctly.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

Even after the camp was fully set up, wood had been gathered and a campfire had been lit for them to see by, Iroh insisted they wait to open the sack until after Teiji had been put to bed. But after having his usual routine so disrupted by attacks during the day and secret missions at night, Teiji just refused to settle down again, even for a full ten repetitions of “Leaves on the Vine.” Finally, Zuko said with a blush beginning to stain his cheeks, “Everyone, just close your eyes and cover your ears for the next ten minutes, okay?”

 

Everyone stared at his nephew curiously, but he fiercely insisted on them neither seeing nor hearing what he did next, so Iroh and the others all made a big show of turning their backs, putting their hands over their ears and walking to the other side of the clearing. But once they were on the other side of the clearing, Iroh moved his hands just far enough away from his ears to hear clearly, and glimpsed out of the corner of his eye that Katara was doing the same. While the Avatar stepped in front of Sokka, and then turned around and blatantly used the bigger boy for cover while he peeked at what Zuko was doing. The airbender whispered to his friends, “Aw, that’s cute; he’s getting undressed and crawling into bed with the baby!”

 

After some faint rustling sounds, during which Iroh pictured his nephew snuggling the baby close, they heard him sing in a voice sounding raspy and strained at first, clearly embarrassed, but gradually warming:

 

_“Earth rumbles, then settles as we do for sleep,_

_The fire crackles with a warming glow,_

_The wind rushes high, and the river runs deep,_

_As they sing what you already know,_

_You already know:_

_Evermore I will love you, evermore I will stay_

_Ever with you in spirit, never so far away._

_And though I know some day you’ll go to find your way alone,_

_Evermore I will love you, you are ever my own._

 

A truly touching and lovely lullaby, and one that spoke of all the elements instead of just their native Fire; where had his nephew learned that?! Iroh continued listening in astonishment, as Zuko sang on,

 

_‘Though nothing’s as certain as seasons and time,_

_And nothing will be as before,_

_Still every way and always, it’s certain that I’m_

_With you forever, evermore:_

_Evermore I will love you, evermore I will stay_

_Ever with you in spirit, never so far away._

_And though I know some day you’ll go to find your way alone,_

_Evermore I will love you, you are ever my own._

_Ever my son,_

_Forever… and evermore.”_

Sweet Agni, that song could have been specially crafted for Zuko’s adopted Earth Kingdom child and even their situation right now; when had his nephew commissioned a minstrel to compose it? Iroh thought back to the _Wani_ and everyone aboard it, wondering if one of the crew had possessed a talent for musical composition that even he hadn’t been aware of.

 

Zuko sang the lullaby through one more time, and then wordlessly hummed to his son for a few minutes until finally falling silent; Teiji must have finally fallen asleep. Iroh waited a few more minutes, but finally turned around when the others did, to find Zuko still easing away from Teiji and out of their bedroll.

 

Seeing their knowing smiles as he got to his feet, Zuko blushed so hard it could be seen by the light of the fire, and silently glared at them all for catching him in such a tender and unguarded moment. But Sokka just cheerfully whispered back, “You said to only give you ten minutes!”

 

After the teasing moment passed and Zuko was dressed again, everyone crowded around the sack that had been brought from Admiral Zhao’s flagship to see what had been in that sea chest that the kirin spirit had wanted destroyed. The first item Zuko pulled out of the sack was a set of three scrolls, each one tied with a red ribbon. The Avatar grabbed one to read, so Iroh took another, and Zuko opened the third.

 

After just a few moments of perusing the scroll, Iroh gave a wry chuckle and rolled it back up. At nearly the same time, staring at his own scroll, Zuko made a strangled noise that was somewhere between a cry of shock and a groan of embarrassment. “Interesting, but somehow I doubt these scrolls are what the kirin is so concerned over,” Iroh commented with a smile as he discreetly tucked the scroll up his sleeve.

 

“Why; what’s in them?” Katara asked, leaning to her left, trying to get a glimpse of what Zuko was reading.

 

Already blushing nearly as red as his scar, Zuko’s head jerked up to stare at Katara in horror, and suddenly the scroll burst into flames in his hands as he blurted out, “Nothing! There’s nothing on these worth looking at!” And after his scroll was quickly reduced to ashes, he lunged across the campfire to where Aang was sitting, reading the first of that set of scrolls with eyes as wide as saucers. “You’re way too young for that!”

 

Aang dodged backwards while whipping one hand behind him, to keep the scroll out of Zuko’s smoldering grip. Then he yelped, “Hey!” when Sokka, who’d come up behind him to read over his shoulder, neatly plucked the scroll out of his hand and tucked it inside his shirt. “He’s right, you’re too young to be reading that stuff,” the Water Tribe teen scolded the Avatar, though Iroh couldn’t help noticing with amusement that Sokka didn’t say he himself, only a few years older, was too young for it as well.

 

Ah well, he remembered his own youth, and sneaking into the palace library at that age to read similar scrolls. Far be it from him to deny the teenager such a typical adolescent rite of passage… though given Katara’s suspicious glare at her brother, he doubted that scroll would remain intact and legible for long.

 

Then Zuko pulled out of the sack a smaller rolled-up sack, into which he’d stuffed several small black pouches to muffle their clinking sounds. There were twelve pouches in all, and each one contained a hundred gold coins. “Bribe money, ready to dispense as needed,” Iroh said knowingly.

 

“That’s enough money to feed our entire village for at least two years!” Katara exclaimed with wide eyes.

 

“We’ll split it,” Zuko declared with a decisive nod. “Half for you three to use in your travels, and half for us to use in finding a safe home to raise Teiji.”

 

“A fair decision, nephew,” Iroh agreed. “Now, what else was in that chest?”

 

More scrolls were pulled out, one of them being Zhao’s appointment to admiral by Fire Lord Ozai (Iroh burned that one himself, with grim smiles of approval from everyone else), and a few personal letters to Zhao from relatives and acquaintances. Then Zuko pulled out a scroll in a tube that had been sealed at one time; the seal was broken now, but its Water Tribe symbol was still plain to see. Sokka stuck out his hand in a wordless demand to be the first to see that scroll, and Zuko willingly handed it over.

 

Sokka slid the scroll out of the tube, unrolled it and squinted at it by the firelight. “Huh. Really old fancy writing; we hardly ever see this style anymore. Um… give me a minute; it’s hard to read…”

 

“It can’t be any harder to read than _your_ handwriting,” Katara said with a smirk at her brother. “Want me to look at it?”

 

“No, no, I got it. It’s about… Oh hey, it’s about the history of the Northern Water Tribe; about way back when it was first founded at the North Pole! Uh, I think. And it talks about Tui and La; what they told the tribe to do through the first shamans… There’s a map at the bottom of the scroll, too. Not much to it, though; just a trail leading up to… what’s that word?” he mumbled to himself.

 

“May I see it?” Zuko asked curiously, standing up and circling the fire to stand next to Sokka, who passed the scroll over to him and then pointed at something near the bottom, presumably the characters for the word in question. Zuko peered at it with a frown, and then said, “That’s ‘oasis’. An oasis, for spirits?”

 

“Let me see, please,” Iroh said as he also stood up, and joined them in peering at the ancient text. Sokka was right, it was indeed about the founding of the Northern Water Tribe; how the site had been chosen by the tribe’s patron spirits, Tui and La. How they had taken mortal forms and…

 

 _Oh, bright Agni._ Iroh stopped breathing for a moment, eyes wide with first realization, then shock, and finally a growing horror at what could have happened, if the kirin had not warned the Avatar in time.

He snatched the scroll from the boys’ grips, and ignored their yelps of surprise and protest as he bent a white-hot flame and reduced the scroll to ashes in an instant. “We must all forget we ever saw this!” he said fiercely.

 

“But why?” Sokka demanded. “What’s so important about some old history scroll? It looked like it was hundreds of years old; everyone that would have been mentioned in it is dead and gone now!”

 

Iroh regarded him grimly. “Your tribe’s _patron spirits_ are not dead and gone, young man. And that scroll held vital information on where they could be found, in their mortal forms… their _vulnerable_ forms. Vulnerable to being _seized_ , taken hostage, imprisoned or wounded or--”

 

Katara interrupted him with a gasp, gone pale beneath her perpetually tanned skin. “And _Admiral Zhao_ had that scroll?!”

 

“Ohh, man, that’s bad! That’s _really_ bad,” The Avatar said, his eyes wide with dismay likely equal to Iroh’s own.  

 

“Very bad indeed,” Iroh said emphatically, dusting the last of the ashes off his palms. “ _That_ was what the kirin wanted destroyed. To protect the spirits, and surely the entire Northern Water Tribe, from whatever scheme Zhao had in mind for using the information on that scroll.”

 

Then he faced the Avatar squarely as he continued, “And that is _why Zhao had to die_ , young Avatar. Because even now that the scroll has been gotten out of enemy hands and destroyed, the danger would still have existed so long as Zhao was alive, with that knowledge in his head.”

 

“He’s right, Aang,” Sokka said grimly. “The scroll was unsealed; Zhao had read it at least once already. And no warrior of the Water Tribes could let an enemy run loose with knowledge like that. If Zhao was still alive and Bato were still with us, he’d be first to volunteer for a mission to go slit Zhao’s throat. And I’d be right behind him.”

 

The Avatar just stared up at them, wordless with dismay, but Katara scrambled to her feet, trembling slightly as she demanded, “Are we _absolutely sure_ he’s dead now? I never touched him, never checked for a pulse… If he’s just burned really badly but still alive, we have to go _finish him off_! It’ll be a mercy killing anyway, and it will keep the tribes safe!”

 

“Don’t worry, he’s definitely dead,” Zuko said grimly. “I checked for a pulse before I dragged him off to the ravine, and there was none. Also, I’m pretty sure that when he went in, he landed head-first.” And Katara sighed in relief, while the Avatar switched his appalled stare to her instead.

 

Then Sokka prodded the sack with the toe of his boot and asked, “Is there anything else in there?” Zuko said he thought there were a few more things, so they all sat down again and he opened the sack up once more.

 

Zuko pulled out a small box with onyx inlay, and opened it; the box was filled with a fine gray-green powder. “Let me see that,” Iroh urged, and it was passed over to him. He eyed the fine grains, took a cautious sniff—and then very carefully closed the box and set it aside. That would have to be buried later; even the smoke from burning it might prove deadly. “Powdered mooseweed… also known as Bender’s Bane. Prisons will sometimes mix it in a prisoner’s food to suppress their bending.”

 

“You can actually _take away someone’s bending_?!” Katara gasped, recoiling.

 

“Temporarily, yes. Chi paths can be blocked if the body is hit in certain places and in certain ways, though very few are trained in the technique. Another way is to force them to ingest this herb, but that’s a far more dangerous way; the body can handle only a very small amount of it. If given too much, or dosed again before the first dosage has fully worn off, the bender will likely die in convulsions. Which is why, despite our former mission to capture the world’s most powerful bender, Zuko never stocked it aboard our ship. But I’m not at all surprised that Zhao had it on hand, after deciding to usurp Prince Zuko’s mission.” The Avatar edged away from that innocuous-looking box like it had turned into a venomous viper-rat, while Zuko reached into the sack again.

 

A few more letters, including two that weren’t addressed to Zhao himself, but to other high-ranking military officials. Reading the scandalous contents of those letters, Iroh decided that Zhao had been keeping them for potential blackmail material, and wondered how he’d gotten his hands on them… well, no matter now.   Then Zuko pulled out and passed to him a scroll full of Zhao’s own handwriting; a list of ships in the Northern Fleet as well as the Western Fleet. The list was organized by their armaments and capabilities, and all too similar to lists that Iroh himself had made a lifetime ago, as the Dragon of the West…

 

“We killed Zhao just in time,” Iroh said grimly as he rolled the scroll up again. “He was making plans for a large-scale invasion, no doubt of the Northern Water Tribe.”

 

Both Water Tribe teens shuddered at the thought. Sokka asked grimly, “But did we actually stop him in time to prevent it? If he was planning on bringing in a lot of ships for invading, that would take a long time to set up. And since he was keeping that scroll about the spirits such a secret, he probably told everyone that they’re going to invade the Northern Water Tribe based on it being the Avatar’s obvious destination; we’ve been heading north too long and too steadily for anyone to _not_ figure it out. Those other ships might be gearing up for an invasion already!”

 

Iroh was mildly impressed by the Water Tribe teen’s knowledge of strategic planning, as he said, “It’s possible that the other ships have been alerted already. But given that the scroll was in that locked chest with other items Zhao was keeping secret, I am inclined to doubt it. And Zhao achieved admiral rank less than two weeks ago; if the Fire Lord had appointed him solely for the purpose of commanding other admirals in the invasion, he likely would have crowed about that high honor as well, when we saw him the very day after achieving his new rank.”

 

After a bit more thought, Iroh concluded aloud, “At most, Zhao would have announced to the Northern and Western fleets his intention to mount an invasion, not his plans for proceeding and even succeeding. If we have not completely prevented the invasion, we have at least delayed it considerably; bought time while the other admirals and marine commandants argue about who will command the invasion and how they will proceed. Now it is up to you three to reach the Northern Water Tribe and warn them, so they may use that extra time wisely.”

 

All three of the Avatar’s group nodded solemnly. Then Katara asked, “Do you think that when the kirin-spirit found out about Zhao’s plans, it somehow _herded_ him this way, so he’d be killed before he could start the invasion?”

 

Iroh considered the idea while Zuko spoke up, his expression fierce. “If that kirin _did_ herd Zhao here, to make me kill him… herded him here and _put my son in danger_ , knowing that’s the only thing that would make me furious enough to kill anyone…” his fists clenched, and smoldered.

 

“Calm yourself, nephew; I think it more likely that the kirin simply took advantage of what was already occurring here, and the Avatar’s presence for communicating with,” Iroh said soothingly. “If that spirit had the power to become tangible and effect mortals directly, it would have been far simpler to just trample Zhao while he slept in his cabin and destroy the sea chest on its own. Zhao was likely alerted to our presence here by the colonial authorities, after our disastrous visit during the Fire Days Festival.”

 

The Avatar blushed a little at the reminder of how he had blown their covers that day. But then Sokka yawned and declared that now that all the excitement was over, it was time to get some sleep; they needed to leave the area first thing in the morning, before the ship and colony sent search parties out for their missing admiral. Everyone agreed it was sound advice, and crawled into their bedrolls for a few hours’ sleep before dawn.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

He just couldn't sleep. Aang knew he needed to get some sleep, to be ready to travel again tomorrow morning, but... too much had happened today. So much had happened that it left him feeling exhausted, and normally he'd be out like a snuffed candle already, but after what Sokka had told him...

 

It _hurt_ , knowing that Monk Gyatso, his guide and guardian while growing up the monk he'd most looked up to as a child and who had taught him what it meant to be an Air Nomad... that monk had _killed_ dozens of Fire Nation soldiers before being killed himself. It was... it was almost like learning that Gyatso was dead and gone, all over again.

 

 _An Air Nomad never kills another living being, and does not eat the meat nor wear the skin of a formerly living being. We respect all living things, for All Life is Sacred_.

 

Was that all just, just _words_? Had the people who'd taught him that actually believed it themselves?

 

Was it actually okay to kill someone if they were trying to kill you at the same time? The monks had advocated against that, too, saying that violence just led to more violence and death led to more death; that fighting was to be done only when all possible peaceful resolutions to conflict had failed, and even then, fight to incapacitate only and be ready to ask forgiveness for your actions later. But then Gyatso...

 

After rolling over for the umpteenth time, Aang finally got up, crept out of the tent, and went to go see Appa. The sky bison was sleeping on his side of the clearing, but opened one eye to rumble a quiet greeting to him. " _You're_ not going to suddenly change on me, are you, buddy?" Aang asked as he climbed up his friend's side, to flop down atop that familiar broad head. "You're going to be the same old Appa I've always known, and not start eating meat or anything like that..." Appa gave a gentle snort in response, as if saying that the sun would start rising in the _west_ first. And finally, half-buried in thick sky bison fur, Aang was able to fall asleep.

 

00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00

 

After such a late and busy night, the sun rose far too early the next morning. Katara groaned in protest when a shaft of sunlight sneaked in past the tent flap to poke at her eyelids, but got up with a yawn to begin the usual morning routine; everything she normally did before the boys woke up. Get the fire going again, fetch fresh water, start cooking breakfast…

 

But when she stumbled out of the tent, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the fire was already crackling merrily, and Iroh was sitting cross-legged in front of it with the baby in his lap dozing under a blanket. He smiled at her while holding a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, though she could hear rustling sounds coming from the undergrowth at the far edge of the clearing. Moments later, the rustling bushes parted to reveal Prince Zuko, coming back with a bucket of water from the nearby stream. He nodded a greeting to her as he walked up to fill a teapot from the bucket, and his uncle promptly set the teapot next to the fire to heat up.

 

Whispering her thanks, Katara took the rest of the water to start cooking rice for breakfast, making enough to feed all of them, especially since the firebenders had been so helpful already that morning. But a few minutes after she set the cooking pot up over the campfire, the fire started acting oddly; it would die down for a few moments, but then rise up again to the same height as before, in a steady rhythmic pattern. What…? Then she looked up just in time to see Prince Zuko, who was sitting in a meditative pose on the other side of the campfire with his eyes closed, get poked in the shoulder by his uncle’s extended finger.

 

Iroh whispered just loud enough for her to overhear, “You’ll need to meditate cold for now, nephew; she needs a steady fire for cooking breakfast.” The prince opened his eyes to see Katara looking at him, and blushed a little as the fire abruptly returned to normal; his muttered apology was hard to hear, but she gathered that meditating with fire was a habit of his, and that next time he’d set up candles instead.

 

Soon afterwards, little Teiji stirred in his grandfather’s lap, and the prince picked him up for a quiet but clearly affectionate greeting, before taking the toddler into their family’s tent to change his diaper. The rice was about halfway done when Aang yawned awake and slid down from where he’d been sleeping on Appa’s head, and stumbled off into the trees to answer nature’s call. And just as Katara declared breakfast was ready to serve, Sokka finally emerged from their tent, still yawning and with his wolftail still crooked from sleep.

 

Now that everyone was up, the camp grew louder as well as livelier. As he finished spoon-feeding Teiji his breakfast, Prince Zuko asked Iroh, “Uncle, where will we go now?”

 

“I’ve been pondering that already,” Iroh responded while studying a map that he’d pulled out of their packs. “As Captain Chey said yesterday, there’s little point in just wandering through the woods, hoping to stumble across Jeong Jeong’s fallback site. But no doubt the colony is in an even greater uproar today than yesterday, with Zhao’s men coming ashore to find out why their admiral has not returned; it would be far too risky to return there now, to contact the lone remaining White Lotus agent or buy a komodo-rhino for us to ride. But it would also be dangerous to remain out here, waiting for the situation to die down; the search parties will eventually reach this far and beyond.   Our best option would be to travel to another colony or Earth Kingdom town that holds White Lotus agents we can contact. But the nearest agent I know of is over forty miles away to the northwest; that’s a fair distance to travel on foot with Teiji and all our belongings…”

 

“Why don’t you come with us?” Katara suggested while bending water to wash out the cooking pot. “There’s still plenty of room on Appa’s saddle for you!”

 

Both firebenders gave her startled looks, but that was nothing compared to Sokka and Aang’s reactions. But she cut off their squawks of protest with that no-nonsense glare she’d learned from Gran-Gran, and a firm, “At the very least, we owe them a ride to whichever town they want to go to! Jeong Jeong and his camp would still be here if we hadn’t drawn Zhao’s attention when we were exposed at that colony; we cost them their home here, so we owe it to them to help them find a new place to live and raise little Teiji.”

 

Sokka and Aang grudgingly agreed with her, before she continued, “Besides, Aang, don’t you need to know where they’re going to settle down, so you’ll know where to go when you’re ready for training in firebending?”

 

She expected more reluctant agreement, but instead Aang emphatically shook his head. “I’m not _ever_ going to learn firebending; it’s too dangerous!”

 

That got both the firebenders looking at him, clearly skeptical. “An Avatar that chooses to remain ignorant of one of his four elements; forever unbalanced?” Iroh asked, just before Prince Zuko demanded, “Do you really think you have any hope of defeating the _Fire Lord_ without mastering firebending?”

 

“Look, can we just continue this argument after we get into the air?” Sokka asked, already starting to take their tent down. “I want to get moving and well away from here before Zhao’s men find some more river boats and come out this far to start searching.”

 

“If you’re in such a rush to get moving, then why did you sleep in so late?” Katara asked pointedly as she finished washing the dishes and started packing them up again.

 

“Hey, we had a late night last night!” he retorted before beckoning to Prince Zuko. “Since you guys had so much trouble with your tent last night, let me show you the quickest way to take it down while still making it easy to set up again later…”

 

.

_To be continued_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author sez: If anyone out there has been thinking of making fanart for this story, I'll admit that I'd like to see someone's visual interpretation of the scene with "a monster that's a cross between a dragon and a fox-deer with antlers" galloping away from the rest of the group with Aang flopped over sideways on its back, being carried like a sack of rice. The only other description I've given of the kirin was way back in the first chapter: "Dragon scales over an antelope-like body; a head adorned with great whiskers as well as antlers poking up through a fiery mane; delicate hooves that could walk without disturbing a single blade of grass, an instant before plunging right through an ogre’s heart," so obviously there's lots of room for interpretation and artistic license!  
> Send me links to your fanart, and I'll post them in notes to the story here, and in my profile at FFnet!


End file.
